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"...nearly every poem hits the mark. I like Eleven Days, To a Woman I Cannot Love [3], Weeding, and There Was Something I Was Supposed to Do, But, especially. But every reader will find her or his favorites. I recommend this one."

Reviewed by Dan Crocker ( Click here for review)

published by Green Bean Press (now defunct), in 2001. You can order copies for $5. through the author, just e-mail her at rschume@hotmail.com

The Accountant

The carpenter ants came in through the piping.
She comes in through the kitchen window
throws her apron on the table
sits down in the chair
crushing a new pack of cigarettes
starts making piles of ones and fives.
She allocates the piles--the beer pile--
the pool game pile--the food pile--the rent pile, maybe--
the ant trap dish soap pile--the nicotine caffeine
sugar-free chewing gum pile.
When she's done she counts
the ants on the kitchen floor
the dishes in the sink
her tips three more times.
She doesn't consider herself a pool player
although she can hold the table.
Considers herself a woman
even though the sink is always full
the bed is never made.
She doesn't want to believe she's a waitress,
but she takes orders and accepts the tips
left behind between crumpled napkins
dirty dishes and spilled drinks.
An ant carries a dead ant on its back for an inch or so--
stops--puts it down and runs back for another corpse.
She does a body count
before using her key to crush the ant
then puts the key on a piece of string
she ties into a necklace
to ensure a proper entrance next time.
-originally published by Rattapallax

Eleven Days

I called you
when I got home
from working in the dish room
to tell you
453 plates
376 bowls
17 racks of plastic cups
and 8 racks of utensils
went through the washing machine today.
You were not home. I didn't leave a message. I played solitaire, ate a bag of stale
potato chips I dipped in ketchup, masturbated, painted my toenails silver,
and drank a warm beer.

 
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