Barnard facilities, please respond to my work order.

Snow sprinkles down on me as my eyes flicker open, 

My face is bright with dreams of hot cocoa and plush snowmen. 

In my sleepy haze, I wonder why it’s snowing in September. 

Eyes fully open, my brain starts working and I realize, 

There is no snow in September. 

The snow is my ceiling.

–

Why, oh why, Barnard housing, 

Is paint falling off my ceiling in chunks? 

Big chunks, small chunks, tons of chunky chunks  

–

Why, oh why, Barnard housing, 

Do chipped ivory specks 

cover my sweet single in a dusty filth? 

My vacuum has now become my best friend. 

–

Brittle paint chips coat the floor, 

I sigh and clean them up, 

I make the bed and go to class 

and when I come back, 

Snow sprinkles down on me as I push the door open. 

The cycle is never ending, and by now, 

I’ve grown accustomed to the snow in September falling from my ceiling.

Peeling Ceiling via Bwog Staff