r i g h t  h a n d  p o i n t i n g

 short poetry  short fiction   short...uh..art
 

 

     
  Noah Falck

Monday Morning Replica

 


The front window exposes all I have.
The hallway hides patiently.

Hardwood floor whines as people drive-by
beating the neighborhood with basslines.

I stand up straight each morning
and look around at the imperfections.

In my three previous dreams
I almost had all your clothes off,
stuck on the buttonfly.

Now I'm walking with gum on my shoe.
When someone says good morning
I grow cold inside out

as if in a snowstorm
where everyone's nipples
standout like city capitals on a map.


 


 

 

 

 

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