« Week 44: Can't You Taste It | Main | Hot House 5: Sundance Edition »

January 25, 2006

labor day

Leslie F. Miller

a rat will rearrange things:
loaf of bread
now by the back door,
candlesticks tipped over,
cupcake in the sink.
and you—
you are in a soft chair
counting the spaces between pains
while it cowers behind the washer.
we’ll get him later you call
lovingly between contractions,
your husband on his knees
with a knife,
spurting words, muttering.
he has hacked off a pink foot.
blood on the linoleum
for you to clean later.
he has stabbed it dead,
kitchen chairs in disarray,
washer pulled away from the wall.

Posted by Rock Heals at January 25, 2006 12:00 AM