Turmoil of mold. Of cans rusted open, seeping rot stuck to dust-covered particleboard. Of jars inhabited by peaches and berries turned mud in their quiet aquariums. Of peppers and beans gone limp wan fragmented anatomy. A vase of turquoise cat’s eyes kept fresh. Finding her wits. I chuck them into a trailer and haul everything to a landfill. What ever happened to her marbles and the beautiful vase she kept them in? But not even the pantry is preserved. Walls demolished rooms reappropriated her corpse sealed beneath the earth. Is there any question I cannot outlast? I stuff myself in a jar and fill it with salt.
BRIGGS HELTON is an attorney and a native of Washington currently living in South Georgia with his wife and son. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming in The Colorado Review, Clade Song, Inscape, and elsewhere.