The Afterlife
I’ve been dead for years, so this place suits me.
Sixty thousand channels thanks to cable.
Love the game room and those herbal teas.
Everyone remembers Betty Grable.
Audio
Insomnia Chronicles XXVI
The night is full of insomniacs googling insomnia. Some of my friends are trying Dry January. Dryuary. Others are sober curious. There’s a mock cocktail called a Phony Negroni. It’s made with non-alcoholic gin. Phony Negroni. Phony baloney. When I was eight, my brother and I were walking by a house in our neighborhood when suddenly a slab of baloney sailed through the air and stuck to a chain link fence.
I Only Dance for My Mother
She gives me the wine
and I take the wine.
I mop her floors
and she walks on them
while they’re still wet
A Letter to My Friend After Swimming
hey girl/ so I keep taking Milo to the pool/ he’s on the swim team now/ level one/ he’s still learning to blow bubbles and float and breathe/ while he swims I swim/ freestyle and breaststroke and butterfly/ and/ I’m learning to breathe too/
Poem in Which I Press Fast Forward
my young mother becomes my dead mother
my new car becomes a clunker
my blond hair becomes gray,
my favorite sweater, a rag
my beloved becomes my enemy
my enemy, someone I can’t remember