can you feel it

the stink hanging in the air-

the pervasive rut of sadness that crawls

into your knees and hangs in your shins

like stones-

the toxic wave of anxiety

that creeps into your muscles

like an ache you were fucking born with-

the stink of helplessness,

the stink happiness left rotting in its shadow,

that fucking stink-

this rain needs to wash that shit away

because we

are suffocating

A Price to Pay

There is something in my house.

They hide in the corners of my eyes

and disappear when I turn my head,

but the open cabinets and missing items

tell me they are real.

So if there is something in your house,

leave out a saucer of milk,

or a cup of honey now and then;

some of them like whiskey, others prefer cookies, some enjoy wine.

If there is something in your house,

even if you can’t see it,

perhaps especially if you can’t,

give them a gift.

These fairies, or goblins, or ghosts

will only return your beloved things

for a price.

Confections

Chocolate dipped oreos lay in neat rows

beside white chocolate pretzels

and beyond that is a few pounds of peanut butter fudge

Sour coated gummies sit in clear bins with scoops

beside a cascade of lemon drops

and a haphazard stack of boxes brimming with salt water taffy

Old fashioned ribbon candy lines the shelf below the myriad of chocolates

And the young person behind the counter

smiles at you

but it doesn’t reach their eyes.