The Hour I Return

by Allison Joy Faulkner
Third Prize, Poetry

The hour I return
A squeaking door lets me home
I enter that warming darkness
Take muffled steps to my door
I breathe such shallow breaths
At the hour of two
Wish to squirm into bed
Ignore my teeth and my face
Want to go unconscious for a bit
Be so quiet, be so delicate
With every movement and thought
It’s all in the hips
And putting your heel down first
Before you take a step
I change, throw my smoky clothes on the floor
Feel the chill in the air
Slide my dresser drawer open so carefully
So slowly and grab a shirt
What would I care
If you could awake and hear that I still breathe
I still make noise in the hour of two
You are both nestled so close
As if you were one
I am the hour of two
Split down the center and strewn all across town
Laughing in a park, blurry stars
And smoking at the bar
Out and around with my midnight boys
My flashes of memory
Clogs the traffic of my mind
Night after night
Here is the hour I return

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© 2013 Fresno City College—The Review / Ram's Tale is a publication of student writing and artwork from the Humanities and Fine, Performing and Communication Arts Divisions at Fresno City College. Authors retain all rights to their work.