by Yvonne Nguyen
i. Buying a house for the way the snow huddles on the front porch on the coldest day of the year is like loving a sad girl for the way her eyes crinkle when she smiles– you won’t see it often enough to make it worth it. But you and I bought that sad house with the snowless front porch because you said we could use our imagination and that would be enough. I imagine lifeless snowflakes piling up in our bathroom and kitchen now.
ii. Leaving me is not the worst part of what you did. It was leaving parts of you behind for me to trip over when I got up for water in the middle of the night.
iii. I stumble past that bruise in the drywall that I deepened each time I wanted to hurt you instead and my hands feel that twitch all over again like I could set this entire damn house on fire and instead live in the memories that you left behind for me like worn out clothes you couldn’t bother getting rid of. And when I flick on the kitchen lights I’m slapped in the face with that sticky orange paint you let me pick out. Now, I never question what color regret is.
iv. Memories crash in on each other like burning buildings and suddenly I’m living in a minefield of nostalgia terrified that at any moment I could be struck with remembering. That excruciating and familiar warmth. It’s like forcing whiskey down a recovering alcoholic’s throat, it goes down so easy but I can’t want that burn anymore.
Yvonne Nguyen is a recent graduate of the University of Virginia, currently teaching English Language Arts in Richmond, Virginia. “Minefield” And “The Places We Inhabit” were first published in Call Me [Brackets]. Recently, her poem “I Would’ve Called Her Honey” was shortlisted for the Brain Mill Press Poetry Month Award. Other works of hers can be read in The Roadrunner Review, Down in the Dirt, Bewildering Stories, Ginosko Literary Magazine, Yes Poetry, and Plainsongs. Her work has also been nominated for the 2019 Best of the Net Award and the 2020 Pushcart Prize. Upcoming work of hers may be read in the Corpus Callosum Press.
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