Back to Issue 16.

The Residency

Otter Jung-Allen

Before, the sun was ours to kill. We bent
in half at night and kicked the dawns away.
But here, by force, we eat at seven. Eggs,
potatoes, juice, and greens. The pills we have 
to pay for later. Keep your day in front 
of you. Remember why you’re here. I drank
for classes, cleaned the vomit, yanked 
the panic from my lover. No, I’m not
an alcoholic, that’s my father. Yes,
I’m tired. Yes, I’m wrong. I want to cut 
my nails in private, run outside in rain—
fall, choose a song. I miss a room with no 
one there. My God, I miss my mom. Who knew,
for all my doubt, my life could hold so much?

About the writer