Maeghan Mary Suzik
Quarantime
By 3pm, I have washed my sheets and the dreams from underneath my fingernails.
At 9am, I wake to discounted cereal, college loan emails, and cat litter like glitter.
Around noon, I imagine the dancing I will do and reenact it in the sliver of hardwood I have between kitchen and couch.
7 to 7:05pm the neighborhood beats pans and hollers cheers at a city on fire.
When 4pm hits I take a third shower. Sitting down.
11pm I check the front door. Deadbolt, chain, and knob.
5am the sun has whacked my feet, the mason jars, the journals, my E.E. Cummings collection, the remnants of last night’s habits.
2pm literally doesn’t matter. Just like his latest demonic tweet. I must remind myself.
6pm falls on the unfinished, bottlecap-infested roof where I practice handstands and wishing with my eyes open
10pm I lock the door again. Then hate myself for cleaning all the mirrors.
Somewhere near am, I stare blankly at a cabinet filled with goods that have followed me from my last two apartments. Unopened.
8:30am my sheets are still damp. The dryer sucks.
Midnight is when I listen to the same song fifteen times and sit in my window sill, watching nothing pass into the street lamps.
My mother is the only one who texts me back at any time, though I swear I am a good friend.
3:07am graces my warped ceiling harder than warm vodka or kissing in corners. And I am reminded that sleep feels just as unproductive.
—Submitted on
Maeghan Mary Suzik’s poems have appeared in The Minetta Review, Oakland Arts Review, Catfish Creek, The Rational Creature Magazine, and October Hill Magazine. An actor, poet, and arts/mental health activist, she is a recent graduate of NYU Tisch School of the Arts.
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