Angie Price

In the heat of the afternoon,
I wake up alone,
my eyes sealed shut with the residue of dreams

my plants need watering,
my shower needs cleaning to escape the black mold there

my brother is in the other room
with his cartoons
the noise keeping him company
and keeping me awake.

my bed is small and blue
and so am i sometimes,
but we are lovely that way,
cool despite the heat
safe despite the quiet.

and some days i may wake up and think of him
this stranger on the fringes of my life,

but i am alone really.

alone and lovely,
unobserved,
contentedly vain and shy
about my green growing eyes
and my round hips, dormant.