of the ceiling
Amalia Mayita Mendez, The Opening (photograph)
the dog stands in the hallway
staring down a nothing
that is something
your wooden cane hangs
on the bathroom door knob
if dignity is got
because Eteocles was aware of what waited
for him once he arrived at the seventh gate then
I need a word for this:
you, crouched and in your chanclas
two sizes too big, your brown skeleton
of skin and the bits of white
texture from the ceiling
your shoulder blades keep scraping
you know what’s on the other side,
but you keep crouching, you take your time arriving