Can up your guts
your ripening plums,
hide your nerves in a box
of stale matches, and when
the fridge stops groaning, when
the neighbor’s dog gets cirrhosis,
and all the kids in the cul-de-sac,
crying chlorine, are setting
their sweat on fire,
come out in your gooseflesh
and earrings made of cat’s eyes
headlights. Sell the last
of the lemon schnapps on
the corner. They will
see, they will see
what a nice girl
you are.