cramped
Ella Zalon


when I was small, there was a cupboard in my parents’ bedroom,
and I could curl up small enough just to be the right kind of snug.
though, it did get cramped from time to time,
being folded up with mom’s itchy oatmeal sweaters
and dad’s old grape-stomp tees.
I don’t think I would fit there now,
haven’t tried in a while,
stopped trying a long time ago,
not sure when.
but you— you still try to fit into that crampy little cupboard,
try to fit into too tight clothing,
try to fit in with too tight crowds.
and I gave up somewhere along the way, I’m just not quite sure when.
our hiding place was just right then,
and if we pulled our knees close enough to our chests we could make it work for the both of us.
we would have even stayed the whole day, I think, if given the opportunity of rain or gloom.
it’s too bad we don’t have a cupboard now
somewhere we would both fit comfortably for when you get sad and I feel angry and I’m too angry to even contain myself;
we’ll contain ourselves away in our own little cupboard.
I can’t remember the last time we visited it,
you’ll probably end up trying but I’ll have stopped somewhere along the way.
 
 
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