my cousin Ava
DYLAN ROSSI
Who has convinced me to come out, in the blue light
of the bar, in waiting. Who waits for a woman. Who
drinks, laughs at nothing & laughter
at nothing is the most spacious, what joy
I can offer Who is not entirely here.
Who asks nothing of me & brims
with anticipation, waiting, watching the
door Who is haunted by doors, the gravity
of them & what’s unspoken between us we name
with our silence
Whose voice returns to the womb
of her throat or will not come home, Who is here
in passing & has never been still.
Who I love in the stale air I am swimming
around Whose eyes break like daylight
at her date’s arrival.
Who knows it’s time for me to go home.
We always have the warmest hugs—
always, then I open the door & the wind
DYLAN ROSSI is a writer from New York City. He studied Physics and Creative Writing at Carnegie Mellon University, where he was co-Editor-in-Chief of The Oakland Review. Most of all, he is proud to be out-reading his girlfriend, who works at a literary agency in NYC. His work has appeared in Green Blotter Magazine. He currently lives in Madison, WI.
