In the Basement

i see nothing, though my eyes are open.

The walls are so cold, they almost feel wet.

Morning? Evening? Monday or Thursday?

i've slept and woke forty-six times, though i know that may not be days.

There are sixteen steps in the staircase.

The staircase is twenty seven and a half paces from the furthest corner.

The earthy and musty stenches in the lateral corner no longer sicken me.

Sometimes i hum little tunes, but i mostly just graze my hand against the grain

of the concrete walls and think about my momma.

My eyes fly to the light like a moth as the door atop the staircase opens.

The shadow stands there, eclipsed in light, blowing smoke.

Another can

                    clunks

                              down

                                       the 

                                             stairs.

                                                       I ready my can-opener.

Green beans.