Just there after, the lights dim down to a nearly indiscriminate fade.
The hush falls on the crowd like a falling line of dominos.
It’s the same reaction every time it plays
The nostalgics movies’ nostalgic rerun
Where one might be able to separate the self
But the memory plays heavy none the less.
We are standing in the kitchen
And I can see the sun catching the horizon
Just above the mountains and just before
The sun slides into the night.
Water boiled rapidly on the stove and
The air was drenched in steam and shame.
I wonder if you think about saying that
Or even think of it at all
Replay it, dim the lights,
Replay it, quiet the noise,
Replay it, and find your answer.
Your words repeat in mind without fail-
In sips of quiet spaces, in moves of loud pockets.
The movie reel continues on
But is never without the clip
The lid of the boiling pot
Idles between stable and not.
Amy Stevens is a poet writing in Denver. This poem has been published on hellopoetry.com and Reddit.