I Think the Word You’re Looking For Is “Nesting”

By Natalie Eckl

These walls are my walls,

now painted some off-blue blue

that I can’t recognize or name.

Not cornflower but maybe

his brother. Or cousin. I don’t know

what to say. The cat sniffs

my leg, eyes clear of recognition,

then retreats to his bowl. I can’t remember

if you said in one of our calls that you’d stopped

cooking. Three apples in the fridge look withered.

You say now that I’m gone

maybe you’ll go somewhere too.

We name places we’ve never been

like Nova Scotia or Neverland

never once believing that you’ll do it.

Once, you said you had no desire

to go abroad and we fought over it.

Some part of me still believes your fate

is tied up with my own. Like if you built

four brand spanking new walls brick by brick,

a border between what could hurt you

and what couldn’t, we’d both end up

huddled in the corner, eating our hair, muttering

“What did you have to go and do that for?”

END

Author Bio: Originally from Rochester, NY, Natalie Eckl now lives in Washington, DC where she has recently completed her undergraduate degree in English and creative writing at George Washington University. Her poetry has been accepted by Black Fox Literary Magazine and will be published in the new year.