sunset
each morning,
before we uncover my peepholes and
shrink from the yawning void
waiting beneath the impossible streets
before we push oak legs through
phantom dust tracks to their canonized
configurations and reset our
twin-acted stage of brain matter gray
before we hear, warbling through the
plaster, a million miniature devils
singing my hapless name into
rebirth as a unworldly beast
i pray that i might roll my
decaying marbles toward the
holiday china and spy a speck of
sugar i did not request
so that before i might scrub a
papery spider from the flatware, i
may seize back and finally
go to sleep.
Deb Jannerson
Deb Jannerson is the author of Rabbit Rabbit (Finishing Line Press, 2016) and the winner of the 2017 So to Speak Nonfiction Award. Her work has been featured in six anthologies and more than twenty magazines. She lives in New Orleans with her wife and pets. Learn more at debjannerson.com.