Trust Fall

by Stephanie Rogers


 
And as quickly as it came, the light was gone.    For months, we lived inside a crystal ball  the future, all hot pulse electric,  a pulp  of apricots and peaches  on the black asphalt of summer.    No one told me how much it would cost.  The cups left out on the porch, the storm radar muted  this fever that never breaks or reaches a resolution.  Tell me the dream again,  how I washed your hair in the bathtub  and it all came out in clumps. Your mother,  lost in the casino the night of the snow    And in the morning, her voice on the landline.  It is the smallest of miracles that bruise  the tender part of my heart that I  never let you see,  a wanting like sin  and the desire not to be left alone again.
 
 

 

Stephanie Rogers is a writer and poet in Asheville, North Carolina. Her creative nonfiction and poetry has appeared in Metatron Press, Thought Catalog, The Great Smokies Review, and more. She is passionate about sleep and top 40 music, and looks forward to one day publishing an essay collection that her friends will describe as "a little much."