Overheard on the Baby Monitor
and bourbon breath,
towards the crib,
in the darkness,
“Eat the night like a pecan tart.”
Stubborn Karmic Stains
In the center of the living room,
on the egg-shell white carpet,
I’m chocolate-covered cherries
eaten by the dachshund puppy,
the tipsy date with the bloody Malbec splatter,
red clay smudges from a sick day hike.
There’s no resolving me to be removed,
merely spraying and then brushing me away.
Granny’s club soda and vinegar voodoo has no power
and any conspiracy to cover me with the ottoman
would only end like the Bay of Pigs.
I’m your forever iota,
fading but always present,
as you step over me in your bare feet
holding your breath
like a child riding past a graveyard.