Loud Neighbors

Image by Sriharsha Makkura


Loud Neighbors

1.

Today is not tomorrow.
If anything, it’s yesterday.
It’s for this reason that I don’t brush my teeth;
I’ve (secretly) trained a troop of spiders
to pick them clean while I sleep.
This is why my mouth gapes when my eyes close
and I cough webs. But you and I both know
I would never speak. Below us,
people stick their noses in light sockets.
This is why everything smells like techno.
On Sundays, hear their bodies thump
as Granma stands by the stereo
trying to hear the gospel station,
flicking the switch on, off, on, off,
wondering why nothing happens.

2.

Today is not tomorrow. If anything, it’s yesterday. It’s for this reason that I don’t brush my teeth; I’ve (secretly) trained a troop of spiders to pick them clean while I sleep. This is why my mouth gapes when my eyes close and I cough webs. But you and I both know I would never speak. Below us, people stick their noses in light sockets. This is why everything smells like techno. On Sundays, hear their bodies thump as Granma stands by the stereo trying to hear the gospel station, flicking the switch on, off, on, off, wondering why nothing happens.



C.L. Bledsoe

Posted over on Temenos
1. Line breaks by Glenn Buttkus
2. Prose poem by Courtney Bledsoe