lately I’ve been drinking 

a little on weekdays, 

and smoking more also – 

a little too much – my mouth 

around the palate

like a quartered slice 

of pineapple. 

and I’ve been setting 

out mousetraps – don’t want to, 

but they make the dog 

bark and do shits 

in the kitchen. she doesn’t like 

them in here; it’s giving her 

anxiety. and she looks at me

in the morning when I yell at her

the same way as they do

when I empty the traps

and hear unhappy thumps

landing at the bottom

of the rubbish bins. perhaps

I should just clean up better,

but what would be the point?  

I haven’t had a visit 

from anyone in weeks. that

is why I’m drinking. 

and wiping blood

off the counter

with folded-up corners

of kitchen roll. I am a houseplant

in a hot apartment

with people on holiday. guilt 

sinks my evenings

like a drunk in a gutter-

bound car.