|Oct/Nov 2011 Poetry Special Feature|
Mosaic artwork by Laura Robbins
After Another Day Spent on the Couch
I can't hussy here—it's too loud. Water
drips from cracks in the ceiling.
The borrowed wi-fi is on the fritz
& the entire world is in flux. I imagine
paradigms rotating in slow motion.
Mania. Building's erupt at such
deliberate speeds you can see the fire
spark from air—nothing. I can't cowl
shadow here. I can't desk drawer.
On TV, there's an old married couple
on a bench. One hand touches another
& can't you just imagine the wedding
ceremony? The two of them all fluo-
rescent shine. Imagine a time lapse
of their skin mottling with age. Finality,
or the semblance thereof. I'm here
alone because I can't compete
with the clear eyes of strangers. If you
get this message, please believe me:
I can't cartography. I can't toaster oven.
Editor's Note: This poem is a holdover from last issue's challenge, so it contains the words mania, flux, ceremony, and borrow.