Airshaft

Through the narrow opening, she drops it,
waits for the echo. She will wait.
Grime-smudged face, she hears nothing.

Light crawls down, creeps
through mold, rests on webs.

blunt razors, glass shards, menstrual cloths
trapped—garbage bin, tomb, purgatory.
Conversation floats slowly to the bottom.

You know how girls flirt
Lost his job for being
Gas prices have gone up
I promise, I won’t
Beat his wife, the police
Stop it, please, no
You can’t have her, you know
You know I love you
Even the baby, he was

Words settle
among trash, dirt, secrets.