I’m sleeping on the
couch again. I write ’til late,
then collapse in place.
Immobile
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I’m sleeping on the
couch again. I write ’til late,
then collapse in place.
I forgot to bring
the jade plant inside. One
by one its fat leaves fall.
Pumpkin cheesecake in
the oven. Nutmeg, ginger.
Fragrant November.
Stars so sharp they are
holes in time, the past shining
into the future.
How can one person
be so excited about
an extra hour’s sleep?
That candy still sits
there. What would Fat Bastard say?
“Get in my belly!”
When I eat crazy
trans fat, hot wings, donuts, all
sucked into the void.
My husband’s pride is
African violets, purple
faces genuflect.
Every year they say
they’re too old, but hit the streets
for that sugar fix.
I answer the door.
Offer kids cooked broccoli
They demand candy.