her red lace, push-up, underwire
bra. Remembering the days
she didn’t wear a pretty contraption
that's useless beyond a confining attraction.

She slipped on
her spiral silver hoops. The holes
in her head match that of
her bed. She fills them in with
trinkets she picked up at the five-and-
dime, when she's not penning rhyme.

She slipped on
her stained apron to do
the cooking. None are booking her
for poetry readings. Her poems are
as her leftovers -
stale and cold.

She slipped on
the water that sloshed
from the cat's bowl
onto the floor. Fell on her *** -
sat and relaxed.

She slipped on
by his house without
a visit. She paid him many
in 2005. Now all she does
is hang outside.