10PM, AND SHE SAYS THE MOON IS BEAUTIFUL
And it is, though skylight glass blurs the ball rolling in its practiced groove
and she hasn’t left the house in a month, vomits mercury-poisoned fish,
sleeps alone in the lumpy king bed you shared. You have learned so much
about neurology, psychology, immune response, but still manage to pretend
you live with a healthy person instead of a silhouette. Who’s Frankenstein
and who’s the monster, your analyst asked in a flourish of rhetoric. Hours ago
you ate a loaf of bread the size of a faun like that actor ate an entire pie
in A Ghost Story and later you might dance to Joy Division, thinking of Ian
swaying from his rope, but the 12-step friend said you are thriving in spite of
tinnitus yowling in your ruined ears and twenty drugs she takes to function
and the ghetto bird just now flaying Spring’s first night and even the hyper
acute imagery on the new smart TV is just more dukkha. Better slur the
serenity prayer,
get grateful for yellow
grass and cracked birdbath.
ABOUT THE POET
Todd Robinson’s
work has lately appeared (or soon will appear) in Notre Dame
Review, The
Pinch, North American Review, and South Dakota Review. He is an
assistant professor in the Writer's Workshop at the University of Nebraska-Omaha
and caregiver to his partner, a disabled physician.
ABOUT SUGAR HOUSE REVIEW
We loved reading the work that we’ve published (clearly), and we want an
opportunity to better hear our contributors. We're featuring audio recordings of
poems from our pages, read by the poet. This an open invitation to all contributors
from any of our issues, we were delighted to print your work, now we’re eager to
hear it.
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