Distract Us (poem)

Distract Us

She hadn’t got the chance to finish

her story, the corner fire let, if gas might do no worse

than burn blue, be. Let night fall then, somewhat like

in hue, dusk’s velvet box creak its hinge,

evening solitaire and satellite its chippy twin,

or evil, attic-rummage legacies enough

smelling like bath powder harboring

surprise endings under a liquid fresh-glossed

as Knox Blox in a casserole dish

Devoid of the curious fingerprinting

Her story, its pathos wanting chance

to keen its eyes in recognition of

Acquainted hatred’s funeral shoes

Shoot paced-off bullets with a will

To damn your life

Hearing the old voice muttering

she stood to leave but pinched by a pocket

Oh, are we here alone, you and I

Oh, was it me you were speaking to?

I apologize, can I bring a book

Do you want a tray

Do you want the clock in your hands

Near your face

To scream into its gears the thefts

The blame for staying in your chair

Sneer by sneer wound tight in inexpressive

purse marks spike your lips a

scoreboard of mail coming late

appointments made dis by hours’ wait

habits shared with friends gone to reward

Distract Us

Killing Frost

The Tunnel

 (2019, Stephanie Foster)