It’s Almost Fall


In the attic you held my hand,
you held me like you were folding your mother’s underwear.

You said “I can’t love you”
but your mouth was full of marshmallows
shaped like paper planes,
so the air was stiff and pink.

The walls were covered with paisley paper.
Underneath there was exposed wood,
underneath that (living between the walls)
there was a small family
eating dinner around a table,
struggling to make conversation.