Brief Reluctance to Coming Home

Connor Donovan

White-knuckling luggage, I peek the crimson front door open. A weathered portico covers my apprehension, I sneak through the entryway. Greetings by tufts of charcoal dog Hair, weakly lit bulbs.

Mom and Dad trade two-word Replies to each other’s bickering, I settle into my abandoned childhood bed. A succulent lies shattered by the windowsill, Innocently murdered by animal Crusade throughout the vacant room.

The second floor inherits downstairs deadpan. Hon, why did you move my glass? An austere Cleaned up.

Calculated responses heighten tautness— Heighten humidity-stricken air, The cracked window breathes out To breathe in frost. It is winter but childishly embellished bedsheets Emulate warmth, sparking an effigy.

I descend steps to greet a pup Nuzzling a freshly folded blanket, Slobber sullying fleece, Reminder of family sentiment.

Chests clam shortly before a quick release, Anxiety bowing to dignity, Will igniting to absolution.

Thank the folk music ambience, my parents’ turntable. Thank the oriental rug, weathered woodwork creaks. Thank the nightly candle smolder, bourbon neat.