Timothy Liu
The Crisis
Unwilling to be dragged through a marriage any longer.
Was equilibrium what we were ever after?
A stasis bridging the dual abyss?
Never mind that carousel on which we endlessly ride.
Hip flab hanging off forty-something hags.
Nothing sadder than a clown fingering dirty bills.
Our toddlers in line ripped off.
Rolling blackouts said to be expected all summer long.
The Marriage
Spent more time at the opera than on those he loved.
Affliction gawking at paid admission.
As ever he’d been looking for someone to blame.
Ill-effects of hurry on the tissues.
Tiles made out of fossilized ferns installed in the vestibule.
Love duplicating the key’s toothed steel.
Whispered back and forth without forgiveness.
Hence the steady decline.
Sordid ghosts caught inside the door-dwell of an Otis.