None of my exes had a dog. I can’t watch
television alone. I am unkind
with the weekend, never quite respecting
its luster. I prefer to get drunk
on a Tuesday. At all times, I am one tooth away
from a locked jaw, one ring
away from a married woman, one accent
away from a movie career. If I don’t leave
the lamp on, I can’t write. I quit
my job this year and now instead of trembling
at the sight of my boss, I shiver before
myself. If I dare put on a pair of business
casual trousers, my skin digs out the bones
I never picked. I am, I am, I am. I fall asleep
clutching these symptoms like teddy bears.
Maria Giesbrecht
Maria Giesbrecht is a poet based in Guelph, Ontario. Her work has previously been published in Contemporary Verse 2, Talon Review, samfiftyfour, Gyroscope, and elsewhere and is forthcoming in Canadian Literature and Queen's Quarterly. She hosts the virtual writing table, Gather, and can be found at www.mariagiesbrecht.com or @theguelphpoet on Instagram.
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