hush, the claw-foot tub is coming

metal paws & pink bubble. 
sloshing water up the street.
a footstep is sometimes not just a footstep 
but a faint warning. i walk barefoot
into the jagged morning & cut my ankles
on the edges. tin can mouths
gape like fish lips. who is going to pick
the turnips from the asphalt.
who is going to call my brother
& tell him i remember the pocket
he left in his bedroom wall. 
we are all hiding something 
& me mentioning this made you locate something
in your own depths. the ocean will be replaced
by a replica. i'm squeezing the alleys shut.
the less coves the better. sea levels
are rising & with them they bring 
syringes & bath toys. i'm not ready
to scrub, give me time. i like my dirt
& my grim. when we were little
we used to dig holes in the yard.
craters. we were asteroids or comets.
tails of fire. the attic abused us.
the basement slurped our names 
from our ears. i do not love anyone 
as much as i love a good suite case.
take me somewhere else where i can be
a lingerie girl. i'm selling 
a different kind of fantasy. 
who are you going to trust?
your mother or the weatherman
who writes his predictions in video?
the next storm that comes 
will be pink soaped. the claw-foot tub
paws at my front door. i turn off the light
& whisper, "no one is home." 
the beast sits there & i peer
through the peep hole. 
i've made puppets of all my socks already
& soon even my bedroom will scar over.
i need a stenographer for this.
a little man in a jar to jot down
my unraveling. i look for him
in the blackberry jam but no one.
alas the sunset has come complete 
with a swiss army knife.
dissect me, Monday evening. 
i'm a thing to be scavenged. 

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