Katriel Chehade


Coat the walls with eggshell white

watch it drip onto the carpet.

more paint.

wash everything.

if i looked at him more softly,

maybe he would’ve stayed.

i refrain from crying as this only takes more time.

it would be easier to buy a new home

than to remember in this one.

the room is covered in handprints.

i scrub at my skin,

tear at the carpet.

put down the frames

filled with uncertain smiles.

i admire my work.

and if he calls

i’ll pick up.