Bushwick Apartment

When I sit, quiet and still

I feel my room shift.

I can hear it breathe.

Is it just me, or was that you?

People stomp on the sidewalk downstairs

and I feel my bed shake.

Is that you outside?

There's a clay skull hanging on my wall.

Gazing at me, stark white, almost one

with the white walls of the room.

Are you hiding behind it?

Sometimes I hear creaking just outside my bedroom.

A heaviness pressing on the wood panels of the floor.

There's no one there when I open the door.

Was that you?