Step Down

by Allyson Paty

Too many in the post office line. Each one

clutches his parcel and his woe is me.

Think, of course, of the stove, the lamp.

Go outside if the rain peters out or sleep

when the construction quiets down.

After the morning glories closed

you gripped the chicken wire just in case

the wind came to rattle you away with

the seedpods. Just maybe the stove,

your blackened kitchen. At the grocery store

the loaf goes stale before you can buy it.

A man behind you spit shines his child

when she squirms herself to tears.

Stand straight and stay still. The light

gaping out at the empty room.

Allyson Paty was raised in New York City, where she continues to live. In 2009, two of her poems were featured in Tin House as part of their New Voices series. Her poems have also appeared on the websites Underwater New York and Frontier Psychiatrist, as well as in the text journal A Similar But Different Quality. Contact Allyson at allyson.paty@gmail.com.