a different
time,
she said
A dim hiding behind
a wall, where Hollow
arranges its luggage and
furniture
building blocks
A quick—but fancying—
breeze, she said
Dead leaves fell—they
couldn’t breathe:
Why so lofty
to behave like a human
being?
Up—trying again,
up,
her Indian’s chin: It’s your history I’m keeping
in the afternoon
of my head
He’s in occupied territory
now,
but,
please believe that I am
falling
apart successfully
I then shrug
Michael J Pagan is a recent graduate of Florida Atlantic University's Creative Writing MFA program. His work has appeared in Bridle Path Press, The Rumpus, The Northville Review, DIAGRAM, and is forthcoming in the Eunoia Review, and Prompt Literary Magazine.
