Philosophical Indigestion
Neglected sludge snails
up my Basement walls.
Kitchen floats above,
on its sheen of everyclean.
A slow swirling con-
fuses the Basement
with movement.
Kitchen polishes its
teeth with its stain-
less steel gaze.
Sloshed on weepage,
Basement mumbles upward.
Kitchen traces frantic
stitches, sips its glass
of lemon cleaner tighter.
Stinks, pungent per-
fumes, unknown mush-
rooms SLASH
cooking vodka, antibacterial
garlic, antiseptic paprika!
The new food I want
and old shit I can’t forget
sandwich me: the black
up-creep approaching
the plastic-wrapped ceiling.
Then sudden sunlight
from a forgotten window
hopes to shows us which
one I am:
Me, immo-
bile on the stairs.
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