The New House

In the old house, the swarms of flies

you sent clouded the bathroom mirror

and swam in the puddles of wine

on my nightstand. A spider left

a red painful rash on my right calf

after I rocked in the pink recliner

which used to sit in our daughter’s

nursery. The silverfish, hiding beneath

the white laundry basket, set

my skin afire, so I moved away.

This house is newer and bigger.

No more pests.

Two months pass and I finally relax—

I’m a new woman without you.

Poised at the keyboard, ready

to write, a fly bounces along

the ceiling fan’s blades. Its fat body

drunk on your spirit. I exit the office

and spend the day in the kitchen.

I’ll never see that fly again.

Seven days later a brittle spider 

corpse waits in the closet corner. 

All your tricks are meaningless. 

You can’t speak to me.  

Cat Dixon

Cat Dixon’s newest poetry collection, What Happens in Nebraska, was released by Stephen F. Austin University Press in November. Cat is a poetry editor with The Good Life Review. Cat is a Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net nominee and has been published in numerous literary magazines including recently in Rise Up Review, SWWIM Every Day, Coffin Bell Journal, and Potomac Review.

https://www.catdix.com/
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Self-Portrait as Shakuhachi