Stale coffee breath,
fresh wood shavings,
the scent of cedar
of oil
dried & into the ground.
his old 44 Ford is tarped
gathering dust; the leftovers
of his skin over the memory
of his breath.
Her body – cold –
is laying on the couch,
is covered with
her favorite
comforter. Her hand,
trucelucelent
dangles down
to be held
is held, Tenderly.

two people
we don’t even know
carry her out
the pinewood house.
this, ours
is no longer our own.
Is a boulder
to be trampled under
and to be pushed
uphill
Again
and Again.

This, ours
no longer our own.
A home to find
for ourselves.

Thomas Skahill grew up in Playa Del Rey, a small beach community outside of Los Angeles, California. Educator, poet, and artist he is currently practicing in Oakhurst, California outside Yosemite National Park. This summer he is set to complete an artists and writers residency at the Chateau d’Orquevaux in the French countryside of Champagne-Ardenne. His instagram is @skahillart.