Squaretable Seminars

Four years ago
I slipped on a nightie
and lay down
next to a bronzed youth.
I shut my eyes
that were so heavy
with purple crescents,
as if to sleep.
Something curled up
like a whisper
by my bare feet
and breathed heavy.
When I tucked my knees
like a small child,
it resettled
in my arms.
Slivers of moon
shifted silent
beneath the curtains,
my back oval
as an egg.
I thought of us
in limbo
the last months,
and that murmur
pressed deeper
into my chest
and whined.
A minute more,
and it blinked
and suffocated
at my breast.
To that I wept
and slid
away from the stud boy,
with the thing
doubled over at my ribs
like a voice
cracking.


© Hannah Walleser