A B- Day

I am sitting
under the stairs
in the library
typing a paper
that should have been done
last night.
dead flies rest
upside down
near my feet
and I know if I
move
I'll hear a crunch
of dried wings
under shoe.

It's a B- day
and I don't have time
to wonder if I can do it
I simply have to.

At dinner I looked around
Forks meeting faces
Food disappearing
despite complaints.
I needed, right then,
for someone to make my day
somehow.

Then I realized
that tonight
I have to make my day
for myself.

Under the stairs,
in the library,
dead flies looking on
keys clicking clicking
echoing off
the underside of the stairs.

Tonight
I'll make my own day.