TODAY IS NOT YET YESTERDAY

TODAY IS NOT YET YESTERDAY

- Amelia Parenteau

I dreamed for the first time, recently,
of dreaming, the endless cycle of waking
into realities that run only as brackish
subcurrents to our own. (I swore
I would never tell you my dreams,
but they betray me all the time.) 

Watching you listening, listening
to you watching, it’s been ages
since I heard your belly laugh, 
which, if I close my eyes, 
sounds like it hasn’t changed from
the playground and Saturday mornings.

Our memories are stolen from sidewalks, 
leaving the party to whisper smoke
into the night, long walks
in the wrong shoes while we
doggedly follow the intimacy of stories,
and carry old suitcases up new stairs.

“I kissed you on the cheek,” you said,
and I didn’t wake up, an invisible weight
on my sleeping face, the best love note
you’ve ever written. I can’t stitch
as quickly as you pull out the threads,
but that doesn’t mean that I won’t try.
 

Squeaks, Housewarming, and TODAY IS NOT YET YESTERDAY — are the by-product of an interminable on-again, off-again relationship. Despite all rational signs pointing to self-preservation and broader horizons, sometimes the heart mires us in inescapable prisons of emotion. And sometimes two years go by in the blink of an eye.
Housewarming 

Housewarming 

Antiquated Voices

Antiquated Voices