“Homesick” by Samantha Holman

I miss those long summer nights
in our first apartment; there was no air conditioning,
and the thin layer of film on the hardwood floors
would melt and suck my flip flops off
in a heat wave.

I still think about the filth sometimes,
left over from house parties you convinced me were
my idea too—
it was the kind of grime my mother
warned me about, the kind she thought only existed
in those low class hotels along the highway.

Sometimes during an Indian Summer
when my feet stick to an overlooked apple juice
spill I think of you and miss the feeling of being there,
in our sticky apartment, where my flip flops would
thwack, thwack, thwack when I came through
the door and the beer bottle you would open
for me would hiss and sigh.

Samantha Holman grew up in New Haven, Connecticut and attended Albertus Magnus College, graduating with a Bachelor’s of Arts in English Literature. Currently, she is continuing her education at Albertus working towards a Masters of Fine Art in Creative Writing, specializing in poetry. A bookkeeper by day and poet by night, Samantha is currently compiling her first book of poetry. She lives by the ocean with her escape artist dogs and spends most of her free time writing, reading, or baking.