by John Grey
I’m trying to figure
what it is about this house –
egg yolk sinks
into a ketchup frieze –
squashed ants line the sink,
empty bottles vie with the half-full –
I live between a thankless television
and the doorbell –
I sleep on an old couch
with half the flesh torn out –
wallpaper’s ratty –
spit has congealed –
excuse my appearance –
I was up all night, expecting guests.
John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Examined Life Journal, Studio One and Columbia Review, with work upcoming in Leading Edge, Poetry East and Midwest Quarterly.