Melanie Laura – Poetry
Firehouse
Watching you with my lavender eyes
I always asked before I entered
you and I would meet at the center
and I’d inspect you with my looking glass
then I’d hold you open with my lavender hands
and you’d stretch but never break
as my house shook from your body weight
slithering in my quiet street
you almost split in two with fumbling fear
noise downstairs was red and white
I‘d clean it up for you
you were choking on trembling loss
I’d make a space for you
small body
big height
big heart
never thought you’d make it to this age
but you are not to blame
your childhood caused it
I found you in my small, overstuffed closet
pieces of you spread along my floor, like carpet
then you found your way to
my small lavender cage
almost split in two from all your crying
and I loved you with all my body weight
almost burned my fingers with all my trying
I used to feel around your veins and bones
but all I found was similarities
big body
big height
blue/orange hands
you don’t belong in that cold cluttered closet
I know you better than knocks on doors
you deserve more than that dark dirty carpet
you are bigger than the house that’s shaking
your body’s sore but your bones aren’t breaking
never thought you’d make it to this age
but we are one in the same
I know you better than formative fears
I found you hiding in the stairs that creak
and the sink that leaks
but you are bigger
than your own structural upkeep
full of blue and orange burning flame
you are big body
big flames
much too big for the closet
I promise you are not to blame.
Melanie Laura is a freelance writer in Brooklyn, NY. She writes poetry and prose about want/wanting, masculinity, femininity, trauma, and intimacy. Her writing has been published on Autostraddle, Typoetic, and in the anthology, Armed With Only Our Souls. She is a Digging Deeper, Facing Self alumni and her writing can be found here: MelanieLauraSpeaks.com.
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