FELICIA ZAMORA Beneath the stairwell

FELICIA ZAMORA

Beneath the stairwell

Winds arrive; you herd my shoulder in one hand, purse in the other; roof bellows & still your fingers do not know gentle; beyond panes trees t il t —how we al l subject t o for ce; you deposit me in basement; chandeliers of dust; under, you point; wood panels paw my back; & must, wilted cheese, & the mouse’s head separate in trap’s hammer; marble-eyes say sorry, sorry.