"a/c" by Taylor Devlin

vapor-compression constant inside

bedroom the hot condensed by water

compressed then carried away by water

every slight abnormal buzz keeps me up

illuminated by glow-in-the-dark skeleton

a light when I touch warmth of skin your

hair prickled amidst the refrigerant

though mostly alone these days it feels barbaric

no sleep standing before the bare fridge

slowly carving an avocado with a knife

to eat anteriorly to the artificial bright

with pinch of salt and nothing else

the morning gathers clarity made unpalatable

sun grows creeping stinging each eyeball

and a dream lets go its memory despite

hidden exchanges of gas to liquid at night

Taylor Devlin is a poet and technology librarian in Boston, MA. She is an English B.A., Creative Writing graduate of the University of Massachusetts Amherst where she served as Senior Poetry Editor for Jabberwocky. Her writing has appeared in KGB Bar Lit.