On Sleeping in My Childhood Bed Again

// Mikala Rempe

The whole dream
takes place in the doorframe
of the house that you lived in
during our bad year.

The internet tells me
that this means
I am making a home
in you. I keep

seeing us perched
underneath the rust
of the 4823 we watched
your roommate hang half-
drunk on a Sunday.

Your chest
is proud, pushing
your sternum out
like a boomerang,
and my back curves
into the quietest question
mark with your hand
resting on it.

In the dream,
someone snaps
a photo of us
we don’t notice, but
we give all
of ourselves
to the light.