Squat
34 lines
Together we heave
open the primordial doors
bordering a grand and fetid
monstrosity of a house.
The smell of corroding
wood and roaches wafting
out and up our nostrils
as we descended into the belly.
The faint flicker of the pilot
light guiding us down the steps
and into the small allowance
that has been keeping
the carnivorous frost
away from my appendages.
I light a candle on the pilot
and a smoke on the candle.
She tries to run her finger
through her hair, but gives
up when the hair spray
begins to fight back.
The ceiling rasps and throbs
as feet trudge across the floor
above. A flush followed
by coursing water that greets
us through the holes in the pipes.
It slops a hello in her direction
and I watch as she sidesteps
into her other foot and falls
back, sinking the cot
with her cannon ball cheeks.
The vibrations shake the dust
off the walls and it stings my
eyes, letting an unfamiliar drop
tumble down and crater the floor.
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