Violet Rain

two months at best
the doc said,
and we went home…
—in drowning rain
—in pregnant silence
—in circular, useless thought
* houseplants *
* houseplants *
* houseplants *
(need watering)
and we’re still out of milk…
‘better remember to—
oh!
a new lymphatic system!
you need
a new lymphatic system, too…
‘missing red lights
that beamed like
land bound sentinels
worn-out
windshield wipers
smearing grey horizon
over everything
. choking view .
obscuring doorways
faceting teardrops
blurring petals
of withered African violet
(the one in the foyer)
(the one that’s been there as long as I’ve known you)
(the one that needed watering sooner)
leaves falling
like fuzzy rain…
like two months left
to live
(at best)

Karen Robiscoe’s short stories, essays, and poetry have appeared in the literary journals Spectrum, Postscripts to Darkness, KY Story, Bohemia, Steamticket, Peachfuzz, Dark Light 3, Bibliotheca Alexandrina, Main Street Rag, Meat for Tea, Sand Canyon Review, Midnight Circus, Peachfish, Checkmate, Blue Crow, and 300 Days of Sun, and at Handful of Dust, Whistling Fire E-Zine, Art4theHomeless, and on her blog: Charron’s Chatter. Her recipes are regularly featured at Hub Pages, and Fowlpox Press released her brain-bending, idiom-twisting chapbook Word Mosaics in early 2014.