Neighbours
while everyone sleeps
under milky moonlight
stars coat my eyelashes
body is more than shadow
shadows won’t overtake
my mind- trapped in
a studio apartment with
one filmy window
balcony light flickers
my neighbour must be awake
must have a mind like mine
or perhaps something about
the stars woke them too-
maybe in another life
we might have met for coffee
discussed our numbing jobs
questioned if our presence
made any difference
instead, I boil water
and drink it plain
swallowing bland
warmth that at lasts
lulls me to sleep
& makes me
forget
Warnings
mother warned me
you’ll end up all alone
I was in my early 20s
& the warnings grew
as I passed 30
you don’t want to be
all alone when you’re old
you don’t want to die alone
I adopted a cat, rented
a studio apartment
microwaved Boca burgers
for dinner
sometimes my mother
mentions grandchildren
sometimes she just stares
like I’m a hopeless case
Erin Jamieson holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Miami University of Ohio. Her writing has been published in over eighty literary magazines, and her fiction has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She is the author of a forthcoming poetry collection (Clothesline, NiftyLit). Twitter: erin_simmer