by Meg Tuite
Stacks of dust-ridden blank greeting cards
that will be sent to no one.
A chipped Kuan-Yin statue with fingers
amputated from too much shit
confronting her rocky path
Stacks of bills
Saved for no one’s gullet but guilt.
A phone cradled, but never answered
Columns of books that move
sick to death
of holding their breath
and ready to crack if only...
A computer submerged in between life & housebroken swine
savors its own torture
refusing to reboot, reconnect, recommit
or a blinding scream illuminates
Flashing pop-ups vibrate across the screen
Quick assault weight loss and
wrinkle-freeze home is where the money is
what year did you graduate?
long distended love
waste time that was already pilfered
zoning out one world for another
mesmerized by a dancing screen
that promises a life
dilated by a drug
no pharmaceutical could possibly