Sail

She puts her ear up against
the door to listen for something
more than just the wind,
but you never get what you want
while fretting over wishes.
There were dishes in her sink
floating in the foam of all her
scrubbing. When she looked
out at the city the best she
ever saw was next to nothing.

There was noise seeping
through the ceiling from the party
that raged up on the roof.
A small painting of a dog that
long ago dissolved fell off its nail
and broke apart like a memory
forgotten just in time for
you to know it slipped away.
She swept up all the broken
pieces and poured them in the trash
and made the choice while
she was cleaning that she would
appear up there and see
what she was missing.

The dresses all the women wore
were small things holding tight
against their bones. There was
a bottle of vodka on the picnic
table that they all drank from
paper cones. The music was bad
and it roared from a crappy
speaker taped to the rail.
She looked out at the view
from where it played
and wanted to jump from where
she stood reminding her she
should have stayed because
the height to her was much more
like a sail.