Head to Bed

Comments (0) Issue 3, Poetry, Writing

Head to Bed

By Alexandria Drouin


I don’t work

All my friends are gone

I won’t let these be my tapping shoes

I lay my clothes flat on the line

This isn’t where I was born


I listen to the owl’s hoot

The trees dressings have fallen ill

I call out for my “kiss and tell”

But the neighbors know no Isabelle


He drinks the waters I pass around the table

Eats what I cook

He’s especially playful


I shave one side of my head

So that the road feels even

Slap out the one, two, threes

And tell him that I’m leavin

“I’m leavin’, I’m leavin’, I’m leavin’


The taste of mascara burns

If only I had known;

The beds of my fingernails were roasted

To the bone

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