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a poem by M.P. Powers (1 of 4)
Liegnitzer Strasse 15
She left me in charge of her flat
and all her things while she's away.
I have been through everything. The plays
of Sophocles, her silver rings
and fishbone combs. I have caked
on her apricot deodorant, examined her panty
drawers and postcards. There is one scribed by
an unemployed or unemployable Czechoslovakian
trombone player. It's written in an angry scrawl
that gets angrier every time I look at it. There are little gnats
that like to crawl in the toilet before finding their way
onto your cups and dishes. The refrigerator stinks
like someone hacked off someone else's
testicles and belly and feet and shoved the whole affair
in there. And what's up with this fleabag
mattress I'll be sleeping on? My box spring is a slab
of Styrofoam aspiring
to be box spring. My fortieth birthday. No job,
no family, no plan. I have two months to hang around
this flat. Two months to get some kind of plan.
Meanwhile, I've got a poisonous doll's eye plant
growing inside
my skull, pumpkin
spice candles
to bleed & poems waiting to write me.
and all her things while she's away.
I have been through everything. The plays
of Sophocles, her silver rings
and fishbone combs. I have caked
on her apricot deodorant, examined her panty
drawers and postcards. There is one scribed by
an unemployed or unemployable Czechoslovakian
trombone player. It's written in an angry scrawl
that gets angrier every time I look at it. There are little gnats
that like to crawl in the toilet before finding their way
onto your cups and dishes. The refrigerator stinks
like someone hacked off someone else's
testicles and belly and feet and shoved the whole affair
in there. And what's up with this fleabag
mattress I'll be sleeping on? My box spring is a slab
of Styrofoam aspiring
to be box spring. My fortieth birthday. No job,
no family, no plan. I have two months to hang around
this flat. Two months to get some kind of plan.
Meanwhile, I've got a poisonous doll's eye plant
growing inside
my skull, pumpkin
spice candles
to bleed & poems waiting to write me.
© by M.P. Powers
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #18 ~ Nov 2011
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