by Caroline Rayner
You drank mint tea
while reading missed connections
and I peeled oranges
while studying our horoscopes.
These days, I spend too much time considering residue––
avocado shells, loose change, sea salt.
I call it a still life,
or a clean slate.
When I feel like a black hole
or when I feel like the bottom of a well,
I put on a sweater
and I hide in the bathtub
and I play old Cat Power records.
I consider uncurling,
to write down weird dreams,
or read poems on the internet,
or apply eyeliner, perhaps lipstick––
ruby or wine or cinnamon or peach.
Yet, Mercury is in retrograde,
so I slip into obscurity
for the sake of stability.
I hardly feel real.
I just want to feel real.