The dishwasher appears in good spirits,
humming through its To Detergent list, passive-
aggressively grinding its teeth down. & you can’t help
but notice the rain collapsing
the showy costume of snow. Stalled blank cells,
caught between left & right margins. Setting up
an easel. Tethered to fact but teetering.
I’ve already let the day down
in surprising ways. Made a rocket into a box.
The sky was elected mayor
of overcast & my vote didn’t count.
From the next room, overhearing
my life. Filtering it through a dynamic kidney duo.
What quaint retribution can I mutter? Tweezing the unwanted hairs
makes no difference to the portrait
from a distance. On the chin
of the kitchen counter, a common clementine,
coat removed. A one-piece offering so plump
it might just turn things around.
You can smell the holy ghost in there
filling it up, a body orange-juiced with joy.