The Noise Outside

That day, on the patio, you heard a noise and you jumped up, ready to act, while I just froze, telling the story again and again to your mother, her lover, everyone knew that you were brave and I just froze, my sister, my dad, a teacher or two, the grocer, how you had been brave, and I had froze, how you had a life, while I just froze, a horse, private lessons, and me, I froze, summers, weekends, remembering how I froze, you took swift action, I was a clod, you were decisive, I was not, you heard a noise I didn’t hear, the Rolling Stones “19th Nervous Breakdown” on the stereo so loud and now I’m never sure, is it a case of OCD or indecisiveness which faucet handle is hot, and which is cold, is the light switch on or is it off, how you were brave and I was not, how you were brave and I was not, how you were brave and I was not.

 

 

Morgan Harlow‘s work appears or is forthcoming in CHEAP POP, Miramichi Flash, Washington Square Review, BULL, SmokeLong Quarterly, and other journals. She teaches writing in Madison, Wisconsin and is the author of a full-length poetry collection, Midwest Ritual Burning (Eyewear 2012).