An Exercise in Meandering
I taught your favourite dance move to the furniture-
I wear the fabric lampshade
To ward the boredom off
Sip ashtray slurries
Punch outlets that swallow
Plugs in dual-pronged feasts
I taught your favourite dance move to the furniture—
You should see my sofa two-step
I’m sorry that sense is something
I can’t seem to make
Takes too much time
To whittle reality’s wood
Into something I can stand
Does the flowering teacup smell stale to you?
They say it’s a common symptom
Of whatever it is that ails me
The looping stances I take
The lies I bake into bread
To feed the antique children
Who play in the plastic jungle
Spencer Keene (he/him) is a writer and lawyer from Vancouver, BC. His poetry and short fiction have appeared in a variety of print and digital publications, including SAD Magazine, Sea to Sky Review, and Dog Throat Journal. Find more of Spencer's work at www.spencerkeene.ca.
