Every other Friday

By | 1 May 2019

Our telephone is in the hallway
sits high on the wall like a hawk.
It can kill our weekend with its ear-splitting cry.

We wait by the door in coats
bags at our ankles
we know we’re being watched.
The only lights outside are those that don’t move.

I feel the air pull back before it begins
and my brother reach for my hand.

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