This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Wells chapter.
I will lay down and stay now, and stay in Poughkeepsie
And a small apartment rent there, of bricks and concrete made;
Nine unpaid bills will wait there, and a broken kettle for tea,
As I live alone in the urban quaid
And I shall lose my rest there, for rest slips far too fast,
Slipping from the old pipes in the morning to where traffic flits;
There neon’s all a glimmer, and stars a forgotten past,
And rafters full of pigeon shit
I will lay down and stay now, for always night and day
I hear people walking with low sounds outside my door
While I stand on the shore line, or by the fresh-cut hay,
It drains me through my tired core.