The Floor Is So Cold Tonight



The floor is so cold tonight

The dust scurries, moves, hides

My palm takes the pulse of linoleum

Wax, dirt, desire, finish,  surface,  sealer

Remnants of shine, all but a bug skeleton speck

We were the warmth, the life, struggle, the stumble

Laying here, cold floor moved into heat, a ghost sheen

I turn my palm upwards, as if to control something gone

Wasn’t the air the heaviest that night? It pressed us down

What we left is now unlocked—floorless space, — abandoned


The floor is so cold tonight

As if it has misplaced the words

My spine. I cannot lay flat upon you

Your plastic skin has been manufactured

Pain was not real, that night, or any other night

Only the imprints of our bodies, evaporating quickly

Lost all signs, signifiers, meaning and meat, bone and skin

We are a candy wrapper skinned sweet, scent of survival absurd

We could not stay here, it isn’t ours, it belongs to the larger rooms

Tile that mingles, inner juices hold the universe at bay, floor is spinning


The floor is so cold tonight

My feet are getting dirtier, dirtier

We cleaned together, clung, to our heavyness

I am a crumpled paper, phone number named me

Our bodies—gravity, whirled—beneath the skin, floor

Sunk, muscle—pushed up, propping my arm upon you

We came here for the moments, motions, our starving plans

Pieces of tile, adhered, adorned, measured, while yet becoming

Worlds are found in rooms, they are claws scratching the flooring

We remember the feeling of the room, the air, our bodies, the cool, cool, cool, cool



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