3 of 30.

I live with ten people.

One of my roommates,

the pregnant one,

is making bread in the kitchen,

while her daughter clings to her father

on the couch, scared of the dogs

chasing the old man in the movie.

I don’t know many people in their

twenties who live like we do.

Setting aside entire nights to celebrate

each other with wine and cheese,

or making pancakes on the weekend

and taking over a subway car

from Harlem to Coney Island for the whole day.

We live like we’ve got time.

Another roommate is downloading

footage that she needs to edit for

a film she is working on while she sleeps.

Her macbook sounds like the ocean,

in our dark room, screen dimmed,

sleep set to never.

The timer for the bread will go off in the kitchen

and it might break up my dreams

like a lifeguard’s whistle,

or I might not notice at all.

Drawers are being open and closed

a room over, probably pencil skirts and heels

being tried on until getting ready just means

putting on what’s been laid out the night


We all do different things,

like working to end sex trafficking,

playing music,

and writing,

And we leak into each other with our

bread, and wine, and hey can you take out the

trash, and maybe we should go to that thing


Nothing special about tonight.

We’re all home, and

there will be bread on the table

when we wake up.


About amyleighcutler

Writer, dancer, vagabond extraordinaire
This entry was posted in 30 in 30, Poetry and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to 3 of 30.

  1. Lauren Marie says:

    “We live like we’ve got time.”
    love that line.

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