shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Marie Louise Munro

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Keeping House: Alone

I listen for spoons clinking complaints,
weary of dullness, of their scant

weight. They dream of gypsy
caravans, of sleeping upside-down

from nails in boisterous moonlight.
All night long I calculate how to keep

the muttering books from jumping off
the shelves, how to quiet the mad

lamp's hiss, the crackling bravado
of moths. But I must let the fan's

breath caress my body into sleep
where my ears open to hear

impatiens crying on the windowsills,
weeping new tendrils of flame.