Original publication can be viewed here.
Sipping watery coffee, no creamer, fourth cup.
Mom takes the dog outside to shit, pattering across
the false wood, actual plastic flooring,
and I sit at the table playing solitaire.
Mom takes the dog outside to shit, pattering across
I think, when she comes back I will tell her.
And I sit at the table playing solitaire.
I will tell her what happened that day at the hostel.
But she walks back in the room –
starts ranting about how the dog pissed on the trash can again.
I will tell her what happened that day at the hostel.
I will. I will. I will—
The Christmas tree in the corner of the room,
I’m sipping watery coffee, no creamer, fifth cup.
On the false wood, actual plastic, flooring
still, I am silent; on the verge.
Cori Bratby-Rudd 