i’ve stopped wondering
how fast the embers
would burn at the end
of this cigarette stick;
seconds, maybe even

i sit by the balcony,
exhaling quiet dreams
while upstairs, you rewind
memories; the air cold,
my breath content; there is
no other sound but the
water pipes playing trumpet
in the walls, and my heart is
counting the moments
of this quiet domesticity;
we will make this last as
long as we can.

any minute now, the doorbell
will ring and the pizza boy
will deliver us a slice of

we will have to continue
counting again; but for now,

this is home.

Jocelyn Suarez is only sometimes a poet. Actually a nurse, she gathers inspiration from her experience at work, delving into the psychosocial intricacies of human relationships and expounding on issues such as death and human suffering. She has been included in a couple of SingPoWriMo anthologies and has participated in various spoken word events. She hopes to be able to write more poetry beyond the month of April and maybe even adopt a cat.

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