By Maelina Frattaroli
For me, it was always you.
In a bad place.
For you, it was always me.
At your garbage disposal.
Your nighttime raccoon, I'd dig.
A dying dumpster decay,
through days of disconnect.
Crumples. Crinkles. Cans. Caps.
Under stars sizzling
above
my reach.
A mission always incomplete.
I let you make me your refuge,
Hot and cold, you slipped. Slid.
it didn't sink in,
Not into my head anyway.
Those winter nights stayed black,
Sky records spun on replay.
But we warmed each other
never warned
Scalding skin against crisp sheets
In whatever way kept us sane,
Until the broken record
screeched.
Its bad place at night.
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