continental breakfast at wilshire & hope
This poem was written by Maryam Gunja in a 12-Month Poetry Collection Generator taught by Angel Nafis.
to spend my days eating microgreens out of this doll sized saucer
my hair spooling like it’s never seen daylight into breakfast and syrup why do condiments play out so tragic in my fantasy hermit life i have a tendency to overshoot with flavor, i need a good rinse after
when i stayed in for thirty days straight on just the weak suspicion of death and a cold sore, reminds me i’ve never had a visitor and no one has remarked on my mesh curtains so at least I have taste
if i was interested he could pick up “odd jobs” around the place, i’m not offended and anything is funnier than an actual landlord and i felt sorry for me too, i was just a kid
i stayed with her clammy wrist in my pocket when her tiny face broke again into craters and valleys, impetigo or hives, it wasn’t clear i poisoned her using a family recipe with the oils of my good hand it was me, my fault