MY NEIGHBORS HAVE TULIPS IN THERE
A lot of the actors in old movies are dead now.
Am I the only one who experiences this?
I used the bathroom in my home; today
is my birthday. I must have been thinking
about weeks in a year. I’ve read four novels
in the past three days. I know a guy who says
he knows a guy; my ham steak is going to
haunt my dreams. Every time I breathe in,
I hope to come back as a crow. Sometimes
I get so hungry I want to eat my hand.
But I don’t. Watch out, wind-up monkey—
there’s a grasshopper on my car window.
I choose to believe I see the light.
MARILYN CAVICCHIA lives in Chicago with her husband and two children. She is an editor at a bar association and a communications specialist at a child welfare agency. Her first chapbook, Secret Rivers, received the 2013 Helen Kay Chapbook Prize and was published in 2014 by Evening Street Press. Other publications in which her work has recently appeared include: Sugared Water, THEMA, Pilgrimage Magazine, Hawai’i Review, and DUM DUM Zine. Twitter: @MarilynCavi. Blog: marilyncavicchiaeditorpoet.wordpress.com