College Roommate You glued matchstick boxes together, idly painting windows through which its denizens could see out onto their world, safe in the knowledge that outside eyes would just see paint. It took only a week before I built the house I grew up in, barely a month before my desk was monopolised by my home town, yours growing fungus-like hidden on a large sheet of cardboard tucked away under your bed. Our towns’ desired conquest, conglomeration. Your houses took on my hometown shade, my buildings bridging neutral spaces, open ground. By Christmas, we were a city full of windows through which we let ourselves look safe knowing that others would just see paint. Mark Ward Mark Ward is the author of Circumference (Finishing Line Press, 2018). His work has been published in Poetry Ireland Review, Assaracus, Tincture and many more, including some anthologies. He is the founding editor of Impossible Archetype, an international journal of LGBTQ+ poetry. He blogs erratically at http://astintinyourspotlight.wordpress.com
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January 2025
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