In her room
The only eyes belong to posters
And they never change.
She feels somewhere overhead
A plane shattering clouds
And then feels smaller
And more circular.

Clothes touched all of her like a predator
And she curls inside them.
Standing she let her feet feel the noise
Inside the carpet from downstairs.
The shouts that hit against her,
As rain explodes on the windshield,
Again and yet, again.

She even swears quietly
When she swears in her head,
Just like now.
The mouse gets squeezed with love,
A furry grenade,
And it gets smaller than before
Swiveling, pin-less.

It squeaked in reflex
And she didn’t stop holding on.
Not till there were two
Sets of fingernails in her palm
Neat impressions of waves,
On a child’s bedroom wall
And everything stopped moving

And everything was the same.
She expected to shake
The loose stones in her gut
And for the power of the ******
To scratch her,
like an itching match.
There was still nothing interesting.

There was nothing interesting in ten years
And now she wants to drape her love on you.
Like a mother with a sweatshirt,
Against your shoulders,
Trying to match your eyes.
Trying to remember hurting in them.