I Found the Crawlspace Roomy

Our secret is a scream. I believe you were
born a silo filled to the brim with
jazz. Not the kind anyone would want
at a pool party or in a mine, which
is probably why you give me a sidehug
like you’re concealing a weapon or a
wild animal virus. There was no time
you were not gone, saying look we
can leave each other breath marks
in the regular air. Now there are balloons
in the breeze, like closed captioning.
I want to make a car show with every
car I’ve ever cried in. All lined up they
will communicate something so simple it is
a kind of birdseed. It is “the ceiling is
so bare.” Because I love you I will
bend backward as far as you
can go and lean over your hot right
angle of a body so that I may spit champagne
carefully onto your face. This has a lot to do 
with the time we bought a hundred grilled
cheese sandwiches and handed them out on
the streets of Central Square. This has a lot
to do with milk and math and how the
airport is just the worst kind of weather.

RE Katz is a former Artist in Residence at Dreamland Arts and Women and Children’s Hospital of Buffalo. They are the author of Pony at the Super (Horse Less Press, 2015). They work in educational justice in Chicago and are interested in personal fashion, antifascist witchcraft, and television.

“I Found the Crawlspace Roomy” was originally published in Bat City Review Issue 9.