house show
a fire’s burning
on St. John’s
red flashing lights
from a truck
driven by a nineteen-year-old
as the drummer
vibrates a not-so-stable home
and picture frames of cowboys
tilt from a screw on the wall
and the hardwood creeks
as the bassist taps his heel
in the cracks between panels
the bands are all introduced
as varied combinations
of the same dismembered words
garbage and media and death
and the microphone shrieks
inciting young bodies to flail
to lyrics they don’t need to hear
to understand
and mosh is love
and desperation
slamming girls into poles
to call yourself wild
and unmended and free and timeless
in the basement of a grad student’s apartment
with nothing but a bandana
and a suitcase of sativa
you’re not a hero
you’re just ungrown and temporarily occupied
and your ideas are no greater
than the stoned girl’s on the floor
Emma Dean-Stahl is a sophomore at Binghamton University studying philosophy and studio art. She is passionate about design, travel, and (of course) poetry.