(i found the devil in my mother’s closet, holding a bottle of perfume)

the box sits on my kitchen counter. i don’t open it right away. i change my clothes, i roll a joint, i wash my face. i take my time. when i go back into the kitchen i think it’ll be gone. i think it’ll have grown a body. a devastating body. a devil. but i’m wrong. the box is still there. i hold a knife in one hand and my fear in the other. i ask the box if it knows how i’ll die. i ask the box if it knows how bad my dreams are. the box doesn’t answer. i cut it open. inside is the perfume. i bought it. i want the lore to come home. i’m lonely. there was magic, once