Cheyenne Main

Cottey College, Nevada, Missouri, USA

It’s a shoebox of a room;

A shut window, a home fit for a fly

A poor woman’s tomb

Shipwrecked in an interstice of time

Its bony frame trembles, stretched in skin

Oak wood doors and linoleum floors

Desiccated, a man’s hair thinned

No tangible history, or veiled folklore.

A closet stands in the corner

Arms crossed, hooks hanging down

Peering with scorn at the foreigner

Who measures his narrow stance with a frown.

But this place is mine, if only for a while

A new home, a comfortable exile