at home when you aren’t home anymore by Meg Pokrass

Today, a woman is yelling at the pharmacist. At home, your kid contemplates his graffiti program. Your mother is angry at your former brother-in-law. Last night your sister broke down on the phone, can’t pay her property taxes. The dog looks fat. You have been too busy to walk him, too anxious to go out for exercise. The clouds are pregnant. You are lonely. When you touch your husband, you want to be holding the cat—the one who died last week.