David A. Goodrum
Do you know someone who would adopt the small dog
that kept my mom company before she passed?
I’m also desperate for a single room lease,
unfurnished, no pets. Immediate occupancy.
Do I need a permit for a yard sale? Do you know
where I could dump a Christmas tree in March?
I need to rehome my spayed female cat, Loco, too.
About the time she started calling me by my uncle’s name,
mom complained that ceiling lamps flickered, switches
turned on wrong lights, appliances always beeped
and the phone and doorbell constantly rang.
At the end, she complained of a never-lifting fog. And asked
to have shoelaces removed, so tongues could be freed.
I was just going out for a drive and yelled I’ll be right back.
And could you refer me to a therapist
accepting new patients? My hair
has fallen out in handfuls and my skin is crawling.
I want to be hypnotized so that I can stop… so many things.
After dreaming of St. Eligius, she pleaded
to be re-baptized in a horse trough.
I’m seeking dark sky pointers; comets
are coming and the shaking earth is spoiling for a fight.
David A. Goodrum, writer/photographer, lives in Corvallis, Oregon. His chapbook, Sparse Poetica (Audience Askew), is due in late 2023, and a poetry collection, Vitals and Other Signs of Life (The Poetry Box), in mid 2024. His poems are forthcoming or have been published in Tar River Poetry, The Inflectionist Review, Scapegoat Review, Triggerfish Critical Review, among others. See additional work (poetry and photography) at www.davidgoodrum.com .
