Folded Like A Prayer
I keep an eviction notice
folded like a prayer
against my chest
words sharp as broken glass
saying “you failed the test”
Every time I pull my wallet out
it’s there like a threat
holding all my little failures
in a thin black silhouette
Woke up to a paper in my wallet
I don’t show to anyone
folded into quarters
like a secret loaded gun
Ink bled through the thin gray lines
the day I pulled it from the door
“Vacate by the first”
in letters heavy as a score
I pressed it flat beside a picture
from a better quieter year
now both of them are creased
and the edges aren’t clear
Every time I buy a coffee
I can’t really afford
thumb brushes that old warning
like a cut from a cord
Standing in the checkout line
while fluorescent lights hum low
thinking how fast a life
can pack its shit and go
I smile at the cashier
who thinks I’m just another face
while a deadline in my pocket
sets the rhythm of my pace
Rain on the windshield
rent in the clouds
noise on the radio
lost in the crowds
I keep walking under skies
that feel one bad month from done
with a piece of paper in my pocket
weighing a ton
They slid it through the metal slot
like they were handing out a bill
no knock
no quiet warning
just a bitter pill
Kitchen table
yellow light
I read it twice again
did the math on every paycheck
trying to outrun the pen
Called the number at the bottom
stayed on hold an hour straight
listening to soft fake music
while someone else decided fate
Now I count days on my fingers
when I’m riding in the train
watching rows of empty windows
shining cold through mist and rain
Every station looks like places
where someone packed and failed
boxes stacked like proof
of how their plans all derailed
I wonder how many strangers
carry what I do
silent little notices
folded out of view
I pick up every extra hour
that this body can endure
clean the floors and stack the boxes
like sweat might make this sure
Driving rides on Sundays
when I ought to rest my spine
anything to keep four walls
and stay behind the line
Still the mail slot coughs up notices
dressed up in softer tone
“past due” wrapped in friendly phrasing
from an office full of stone
Friends invite me out for drinks
I check my wallet
feel that edge
think about the trade I’m making
on this uneasy ledge
One round at the corner bar
or one more ounce of breathing room
one night loud and laughing
or one less night of ruin
I tell them “maybe next time”
blame the shift or blame the rain
never mention how one cheap night
could swing this whole thing toward pain
One day I’ll take that notice out
and feed it to a kitchen flame
watch the words turn into smoke
and forget the shame
Find a place
that isn’t balanced
on somebody else’s whim
where the roof above my heartbeat
doesn’t answer just to him
Till then I walk through weather
with this warning tucked in there
folded like a lottery ticket
half a curse
and half a prayer