corners / dec. 9, 2018
‘this is what i know: people’s hopes go on forever’
junot diaz (from ‘this is how you lose her’)
it’s waking these days from afternoon naps
with the whole world inside your head
you are not where you are, but in a
remote outpost, with underfed
donkeys stalled in the sun
after stumbling rock ledges
so dry from drought, brush
turns into weaponry, that
pierce and sting
the restaurant where you eat breakfast serves
dry cereal or white toast, margarine and cows milk
sleet leaps off cars on a frozen hi way, the only motel
for miles, even in winter, has bugs-
you are not back in the nyc apt. brushing your teeth
you are still somewhere discarded yet dicey
somewhere laced with slimy black mold
in corners where they think no-one
bothers to look
but you do