September 19, 2016 | Occasus | Issue 6 | Poetry
An Inventory of Things I've Lost
One (1)
Eight (8) One (1) Three (3) One (1) Fifty-Three (53) Two (2) Four (4) One (1) Ten (10) One (1) One (1) One (1) One (1) **one license |
remote control car recklessly driven into our inground pool
sets of tangled white headphones or were they the black ones I still can’t remember uncle to lymphoma? to melanoma? to basal-cell carcinoma? pairs of sunglasses my old college roommate probably stole earring stuck in the crack of Scottie Green’s couch that time we made out in the basement while his parents were at church pounds that ran down my face dripped over my limbs and splashed on the floor dogs and a cat mom said ran away to a farm or a field or maybe it was to heaven referrals carelessly crunched into crystalline snowflakes scale my dad tossed out the window of our fifth floor apartment when he caught me throwing up in the bathroom sink percent of bone mass dissolved away like a cube of sugar in a charcoal coloured cup of coffee bottle of laxatives that rattled like a snake or an engine or loose nickels or dimes heart monitor—okay I didn’t lose it but it’s probably rotting in a landfill somewhere kidney: it failed a few months ago mind. left in Ward B with all of the other sugarcane statues |
CHELSEA BRIMSTIN is entering her third year of an Honour's Specialization in Creative Writing & English Language and Literature with a Minor in Mathematics.