Trenna Sharpe
after Laura Jensen
A lot of people died this year
and I have the gall to worry
that a murderer
has been lying in wait for me
all week at this Airbnb.
The long hallway is dark.
I might not have turned on that particular light
myself.
Someone in heels walks across the floor upstairs.
She’s clomping on my sky.
There’s air in this house trying to get out.
The murderer must be seething
for my blood
even more now than before
after watching me sleep
for four nights in a row.
Outside it’s so humid
we all dissolve
into each other
which is fine
though I do not know our names.
Look at me, looking outside
and talking about myself again.
Justin is dead and I can’t stop thinking about it.
My dog dreams of being big enough
to kill the deer that stalk her yard.
Her hot belly shakes in her sleep.
Trenna Sharpe is from Tennessee. She lives in London. Her work has appeared in the New England Review, the North American Review, Sinister Wisdom, The Tangerine, and others.
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