The window unit hums.
I lie on the bed, the coarse cotton spread
chafing my bare legs. Unspoken words
churn overhead, fueled by their own
fury, but the air in my lungs is so still
it’s nearly solid. Only the billowing curtain
above the a/c shows signs of life.
Photo by me. Detail of home in the Lower Garden District of New Orleans.
2 thoughts on “Mistaken”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Ayala