A Distant Symphony

There’s this tiny space inside me. It has a tiny door with a button handle. A button you’d sew on a shirt. It was a fancy gold one. Round and shiny. I could hear music playing from the other side so I got on all fours and placed my ear right up against it. The music didn’t grow louder it stayed as distant but I could see flickers of light dancing just below the door. Then the smell of cookies and gasoline and cupcakes and charcoal intertwined in my nostrils. It was conflicting but curious. There was only one way to solve this. I had to turn the gold button knob and open the door to that tiny place inside me.

Just one more inch

So close that’s usually how I do

Not usually you hit the mark

Or Right on

I hear

So close

You were this close

If only you made it just one more inch

Maybe living will be my talent

The one thing I did right

They’ll Mention it in my eulogy

As if I mastered the art of being alive

Not that it’s something to master

There’s no right way to be alive

That’s what I’d say

(My husband may disagree)

-Saschia

It’s speaking to me

Mid sleep checklist incomplete

Dreaming of writing this

While skating and collecting snowflakes in my pocket

I’m with my old boss looking for the next word

It’s underneath the ice and as long as we keep moving

they’ll appear

Slowly we place each word one after the other

What we build here makes complete sense

Door hinges break without salt so we sprinkle liberally

And we have to crack the window so my mom can hear her alarm

It’s in the next house along with my mom

The moons out it’s big and the night sky makes me weak

So I sit on the porch watching it glisten hoping that in some way

it’s speaking to me.