We listened to Houses
of the Holy. You were in the sky.
I took the dogs out, sprayed them
with the hose. I touched your forehead
scar. It was white like foam. You
read The Beautiful and
Damned while the fan blew
warm air on my face.
You deciphered The Rain
Song, I ran
to quiet
the dogs. My
stomach growled.
You fucked around
on your synthesizer.
I listened to Kanye’s
gospel album, wrote a novel
about the scar above your eye. I
took the dogs out. A jetplane sprayed
white lines in the sky. I touched
the sleeve of your leather jacket.
The dogs drank the water
from the hose.
About the Poet
Catherine Walshak is a Virginia writer currently pursuing a graduate degree in English from the University of Virginia. Her work has been published on Leopardskin & Limes and in Pamplemousse.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
Vita Brevis Press. 