Apartment
The panting of a shaking, wet dog As it lies––legs criss-crossed––on the brown, corduroy couch With coffee stains and cracker crumbs Pressed deep into its spoiled fabric. An air conditioner grinds and crackles As it stirs dirt from a bowed window sill. Satellite dishes On the building’s sagging facade Receive signals sent to The second hand television, which attracts nothing But a mounting layer of dust. A young, bruised boy Struggles with the crooked door, Through hazy tobacco smoke. Moans and a muffled snore, An alarm clock sounds, The dog whimpers, And feet hit the floor. Nathan Calvank is from the small town of Petrolia. He is in Media Information and Technoculture. In the past, his recreational writing has consisted primarily of poetry, but he also enjoys writing dialogue. He is currently revising the first draft of his first novel.
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