month to month

I scan my own shopping

so nobody sees the putting back.

I keep my face arranged.

I work all month.

The month wins.

Month to month.

Breath to breath.

The rent eats first.

I eat what's left.

Black flowers on the ceiling.

The owner never comes.

My breath shows up indoors now.

I tell the kids it's dragons.

Month to month.

Hand to mouth.

The rent eats first,

then it starts on me.

The queue wraps round the church.

Grown, employed, and sinking

slowly, on time.

There's a number where a life should be.

I check it in the dark.

It only ever shrinks.

They say be grateful.

I am —

grateful like a cocked fist.

Month to month.

Mouth to mouth —

resuscitation, not a kiss.

No one plans a life this way.

And this is mine.