Timothy Michalik

“MOTEL AMBIENT”

Recall with your tender head
a slew of images imposed upon
silent white cathedral walls  
when our words spoke to each
other and left us out of it and how
they’d said the harpsichord
of memory concedes into silence
if not scribbled down or painted
how every action considered itself
artful I had the gall to call you
darling you stayed up all night
in the morning you told me
how I crossed my arms in sleep
as if I were already dead

”MY IDEA OF A GOOD TIME”

I situate myself on the black leather chair.
I watch you insinuate ideas, unfold your palms
and reveal nothing to me.

 I will never know what you mean by that.

Baby blue afternoons, the thick of a pumpkin patch.
We dive in and out of each other’s shadows, careful
not to screw with our silhouettes.

 You light a cigarette with a long-gilded candle.

 I step into your life.
You leap out of mine.

I am glad your eyes exist.
They are blue and opaque unlike mine.

Timothy Michalik is a writer from the Midwest. They are at work on a novel-in-verse and a short film. Twitter: @im_so_green