Behind the Red Door
I have watched the low-rise sky turn yellow and saturate
into a deep red as I pull the blinds down
to not feel envy of sunlight as it shines on my neck.
I have watched the store lights go out
and all that’s left which illuminates the dark room
behind the red door are my tall lamp and monitors
surveilling my every activity.
Last night, I wiped sweat off from under my breasts
and armpits as I struck time
and again those tiresome keys.
Inside, I cussed and got cussed at
for cussing and with Master’s fist an inch away
from my face, I saw just how Pico
was wrong when he said with all our striving,
we might become angels.
With all my striving,
I’ll get to keep my job,
as the door failed to fend off the plague
from without and within.
Tonight, I am at West Village
bloated with dinner I don’t have time to enjoy:
half-roasted tuna, presto pasta,
seltzer water.
Later, I will head home, folding laughter
and tucking it in my heart for next morning
as I’ll trudge towards the red door,
promising myself that today I’ll not run
myself to the ground
where I belong.
Tiffany Troy is the author of Dominus (BlazeVOX [books]) and co-translator of Santiago Acosta’s The Coming Desert /El próximo desierto (forthcoming, Alliteration Publishing House), in collaboration with Acosta and the 4W International Women Collective Translation Project at the University of Wisconsin-Madison. She is Managing Editor at Tupelo Quarterly, Associate Editor of Tupelo Press, Book Review Co-Editor at The Los Angeles Review, and Assistant Poetry Editor at Asymptote.
The Marbled Sigh 