Bohemian

 By Maureen Moroney

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I remember the splinters of the thing
like badly stapled upholstery
and I remember chapped lips
and I remember things that were coming apart
and I remember things that hurt
and things I couldn't help
but pick at.

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(Author’s note: The title refers to a bar and venue that was called the Boheme, not to people of Bohemian or Romani ancestry.)

Maureen is an analytical chemist in central Iowa whose work can be found in Backchannels Journal and the Bond Street Review. No links, just support your local mutual aid organization and give a big, long (consensual) hug to someone.