Moribund
at the point of death,
i made you up inside my head, relapses are
spinning as the tides are changing
the window is cracked open, cold air,
shoeprint made of your dust on the empty windowsill,
bleed myself dry at the point of death
heavy, heavy body, heavy mind, sinking
forgetting my to-do list, remembering the blurry body
spinning as the tides are changing
i made you up inside my head, i believe
the facade i created as you fled
cradled myself sick at the point of our death
sitting on the fire escape with the crackle of your lighter,
coughing out what we knew, burning my fingertips,
spinning as the tides are changing
warm air flowing through my nostrils, a soundless home,
can’t be tied to a “thing” or an “anyone,” can’t
bleed myself dry anymore, no longer at the point of death
spinning free as the tides are always changing
Jenna Curtis is from Rochester, NY and attends SUNY Oswego, where she is studying adolescent education and creative writing. When she is not studying or working, she loves to spend her free time reading and writing with a cup of iced coffee in her hand or buttered popcorn by her side. You can find her work in SUNY Oswego’s Great Lake Review and Gandy Dancer 13.2.