Taylor Fedorchak

Fuchsia only really works for flowers,
aaaaaaaaaaaa like the crepe myrtle blooming
outside my dining room

window in August, when the lease began. Before we hung
aaaaaaaaaaa  the string lights, the mandala tapestries.
Most days I listen to make sure no one

is in the stairwell before I leave. Avoidable
aaaaaaaaaaaa interactions, so what I do
with my eyes doesn’t factor then.

We meant to get a water filter, to unpack
aaaaaaaaaaaa the boxes. Instead, stressed
over leaving, or not

leaving. Some passive aggressive note
aaaaaaaaaaaa about the assemblage of trash
on another third floor balcony. Or

remnants of the shattered
aaaaaaaaaaaa beer bottle in the fridge.
The dehumidifier, constantly running.

Our northern window
aaaaaaaaaaaa overlooks the parking lot,
shells

people use for moving
aaaaaaaaaaaa (if it’s really moving). From behind
closed doors, no one can know

if the yelling is scripted. The neighbors though,
aaaaaaaaaaaa I can still hear leaving.