Perennial
by Darrell Epp
an alien toenail in the sink, a
droplet of blood in the soap dish.
a fly in the ointment. spring-cleaning
time again, but what year is it?
our first-date theatre has become
parking lots, your hugs broke my
ribs like dry twigs. tomorrow I
might try shaving with a shovel.
green lights make me stop. eating
makes me hungry. every departure
becomes a return, a return to this,
a private blizzard in red and white.
I have a superpower: I can stare
at this wall until I can see through
it, all the way to where you are. that
skirt really doesn’t match those shoes.
special thanks to the “b” that turned
“one” into “bone.” your favorite dvds
fell so gently into the garbage can. it’s
nice to tidy things up, but what year is it?
