Verse by @mara.holloway

the streetlamp buzzed like a held breath the cold got into the bones of the house the sea does not remember any of our names the floorboards keep the score

we are all somebody else's weather you never asked and i never stopped answering i am learning the names of ordinary things again i love you in the tense that has no word

the dog still waits by the door at six the tape hissed where your voice should be i am practicing being the kind of quiet you can stand my hands still know your kitchen

i buried the argument in the yard the tape hissed where your voice should be your laugh survives in the hallway you were a rumor i believed twice

the mirror learned my face by accident we drank the cheap thing and called it a feast the lemon tree outlived the marriage i speak to the version of you that listens

i buried the argument in the yard i wrote your number on my palm and washed my hands every train sounds like leaving from here the radio only plays the parts i remember