Floor Space & Rescue House
By Steven Mellor
Floor Space
What begins in myth he reads.
He’s in an elevator with two women. The elevator starts then sways.
Water drops on his head and neck. He thinks it could be oil.
He’s in a pet store with another woman. The store empties then closes.
She slips in back. The lights flicker then dim.
Too late she says. The photo she hands him is folded.
Here I am at twelve she says—before people were cruel to me.
He repeats the words. Twelve she says—try seven.
He tells her about the elevator. That’s it for old twelve going on seven.
She makes floor space. I knew you wanted this she says.
The lights flicker then dim. He thinks it could be wind.
What ends in sleep she says.
Rescue House
The nails I pulled out
stuff the holes with nylon
chinks ‘o light
day ‘n’ night
the cold we’ll always have
The coins I dug out
slip the bent ones back in
straight ones
curse the wait
money for a seed account
The paint I peeled off
scrape the walls ‘til empty
coat ‘em all
‘cept the hall
a world of knots in there
The ceils I swung down
beams taller than a tall man
winter nuts
slip the ruts
a sweep of rubble ‘n’ shells
The thread I slipped out
cross the stitch over twice
Sweetness Plus
Motto Thus
the letters fat as baler twine
Steven Mellor is from Connecticut by way of California. He joined the Psychology faculty at the University of Connecticut in 1993.