Cleveland St

Cleveland St by Kate Jayroe I wandered your borrowed house with a flat glass of wine swirling the glass. I said, “Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home now.” Your cat was drinking out the toilet, upstairs. The first day you’re gone, I take your place at the table. I look around, uneasy, but practiced. I’ve been steering this truck for months anyhow, from the itchy prick of your lap. This was how you had it. This was what you wanted.

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