Katherine DeCoste: Leave All the Lights On
every miniature sinkhole in this city stinks of swamp mulch if I tied a red balloon in it you might fall in & all the mud & human waste kiss you wetly with too much tongue to make you cringe away / every crack in the concrete menaces me with its dark blue gaping eyes & vacant mouth with promises of dinner parties & shared lukewarm beers & empty drives / every place we walked together has the echo of an echo translucent & cool & I’m thinking of pulling all the tape out of its plastic container to choke myself with but in a non-erotic manner / something is synthetic about the way the world haunts us so I always felt like something was following me, coolly reaching out ready to place a cold dry thin hand on my shoulder & start me / I wanted to leave all the lights on
Katherine DeCoste is a writer working towards her BA in English and History in Edmonton, Alberta. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Structural Damage, Sybil Journal, Rag Queen Periodical, Long Long Journal, and In Medias Res. You can follow her adventures in writing, killing houseplants, and drinking coffee @katydecoste on Instagram.