"Dry Spell" by Quinn Franzen

any good actor

will tell you 

it’s not them

up there

but a kind 

of wind 

that throws

wide the door

they have spent

their whole lives

to crack an inch

this is what

I don’t say 

when I say 

lately the weather 

is unreliable

or where is 

the carrion bird

that would clatter

through me 

nobody

ever enters

the red

heavy doors

of the church 

on the corner

its gargoyles 

have no spit

to spit in this

dry June

it’s hard to tell

if the wind blows

or if maybe 

the door is not 

enough ajar

I can feel

at my building’s

heart 

the long empty

elevator shaft

and hear

the lonely cables

whistle into

the earth

does a soul still

wait for me

to speak it

this is what

I say

when I don’t

Quinn Franzen is an Oahu-raised, Brooklyn-based actor, poet, and new dad. He recently received his MFA from the Bennington Writing Seminars, and has work published or forthcoming in Pleiades, Bear Review, Fugue, and Sonora Review.