About Suburbia

Everything
is white
and I feel like
I’ve killed someone.
The streets
are full
of silent noise,
lilies, acrylic paint.
The noise
surrounds us
like blood
and it’s
comfortable.
Our joy
is comfortable.
Waist-deep
and thick
and lazy.
At night
the houses lie
in wait
as if they know
what’s coming.
I feel like I’ve
killed someone
which means
I’ve killed
someone.
This is borrowed
happiness—
it needs to be
paid back.
So I trim
my hedges
with various
sharp objects
and wait
for my life 
to return
and take
its revenge.

Sara Henry Paolozzi

Sara Henry Paolozzi's work has appeared in The Adroit Journal, Booth, The Cortland Review, Hobart, The Superstition Review, and elsewhere. She's at work on her first novel.

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At a wedding with hair curled and waist cinched into a rust-colored dress and you’re there, too

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I Wonder Sometimes What It’s Like to Be One Who Stayed