HOT JUICE IN
AUGUST
T. Anders Carson
The only thing
that seems to work around here
is my nail clippers,
Everything else has either
had their warranties expire,
rotted out,
roasted or exploded
in the process.
I feel like these
empty machines
that surround our lives.
It’s not like we name them.
I’d like you to meet Gina my toaster
or Gertrude my iron,
there’s Mabel the dish washer,
Nellie the sewing machine,
TV named Grete,
Polly the printer,
Maurice the monitor
and good ole’Bill the doorstop.
I once met a woman
who had a shelf full
of miniature divorced grooms.