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my neighbor’s boyfriend.
I ran inside, tried
to breathe
to laugh
to silence
the drumming inside my head.
Went into the kitchen
to get a drink
to get away
to get a glimpse
of the biggest cockroach I’d ever seen.
Toss-and-Turn Night
Bone-oven hot outside,
swamp-cooler cool three
feet up the hallway,
temperature in Dad’s
claustrophobic guest
room: lukewarm.
The bed was a monstrous box
spring. Thin, mildewed foam,
two sprays of Lysol, and one
thrift-store sheet were all
that lay between
Bedzilla and me.
Tried my right side. Kept
seeing the kitchen
cockroach, the one I
tried to pretend was
only a Mormon cricket,
Los Alamos—grown.
