Oct/Nov 2015 Poetry |
Image courtesy of NASA and the University of Arizona
Ripple
Laundry makes
her mouth go dry.
Mine too, but for different
reasons. In my case,
I suspect
fabric softener
sheets. They suck up
all the moisture
around, but since
we stopped
buying them
it's not so much of
a problem.She can thank
dehydration,
as usual. Her lips
crack in the winter,
her eyes shrivel
back into her
skull. She stares
unknowingly
if I call her
name when she's not
ready. Days it rains
I leave windows open,
spraying air
freshener I let
drops land on her
face, I slobberinto her pillow,
blame a ceiling leak.
We both like
Atlantis, too fervently
believe it's real.
As her skin flakes
I wonder
how she survives.