It’s raining. Has to be raining. Someone in the corner room is in love with you. Loves you
enough to touch her body, wants you to watch; pull up a chair. The horn asks: How long has it
been since? There are a number of feelings you are in need of. You are not sadness, but near.
Down one road in your mind you are walking alone; down another everyone is your wife. The
horn asks: temperance, obedience. In the corner room, the daybed pressed to spark against the
wall, she came. When you leaned in to know about it, you wished she would’ve slapped your
hand away; wished to unhear your name falling out of her.
from InheritanceFind more by Taylor Johnson at the library
Copyright © 2020 Taylor Johnson
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, LLC on behalf of Alice James Books.