"Story" by Brian McCabe

I lay awake in bed, listening 

to the wind with the night

 

like something dropped 

from some great height 

 

through the house. I sneak down 

the stairs, the wood 

 

creaking under my weight

and sit on the last step 

 

Around the wall, my parents

are still alive, watching TV

 

Its light cuts across the floor

and I want to see what 

 

bathes the room in blue

I want them to know 

 

my thoughts tomorrow

I don’t know it now but

 

they know I’m here, hiding

listening to sitcom laughter

 

passing through the wall. I keep

so still I hear the breath come

 

to my lung. I hear it now

as my father rises to carry me

 

back to bed. In the night in the dark 

it’s like forever moving you on





Brian McCabe lives in New York, where he teaches English. He received a BA from The New School and an MA from Hunter College. His recent work can be found in Counterclock, The Sunlight Press, and elsewhere.