By Amanda Minkkinen
what happens when you make a home
with someone hungry? I wish I could open
like an evil pit. I’d swallow everyone
whole, all who enter my home
uninvited. To crack open my floors
and deepen my basements, it clings,
that wet smell of black earth.
I lock my doors but they open like eyes
that can’t sleep.
My face is flat against the dark
even in daylight.
the bitterness spreads
in me. And
I am lost in it.