Abigail Welhouse

TO GREGORY, HAVING A TOUGH WEEK

In horse years, we're both dead
and you locked your hat in your office
with no key and couldn't get on the train
until you found a new hat. On Tuesday you lay on a table
while a man poked needles in your back. Now we are wide awake,
switching postures from couch to bed, finding
alignment of the spine. A move like a pie
in the face. Up late watching movies. Up late
reading and up early to work and get on the train
and it always gets late with you, sitting here. Time
brings new hats and new poses. Life gives you
cans of lemon seltzer. Elsewhere, a dog bathes.

Abigail Welhouse is the author of the chapbooks Small Dog (dancing girl press), Too Many Humans of New York (Bottlecap Press), and Bad Baby (dancing girl press). Her poems have been published in The Toast, Flapperhouse, Ghost Ocean Magazine, and elsewhere. Subscribe to her Secret Poems at tinyletter.com/welhouse