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"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. 


"Story" by Brian McCabe
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