Addendum To The Contract (December Poems)

Addendum To The Contract

I, Print Legal Name, will not
between Today’s Date
and Settlement Date on said property

open a meth lab in the basement,
punch holes in the walls (despite my
predilection towards ceremonial violence)

or don a black leather trench coat,
drop a lighted match, and walk away,
cool as this December air.

~Anna Fogel

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A Letter Following… (December Poems)

A Letter Following The Signed Agreement of Sale

I am offended by the implication
that I would cause damage to the house
between now and settlement,

and equally amused by your appended “Esquire,”
a title assumed by the American legal profession.
I’ve learned that even white-coated ice cream

salesmen may legally use the suffix, even
emblazon it on their chirping vans, as long
as they do not pose as lawyers.

Those of English descent might deduce
a noble birth, a gentleman, some rank
just below Knight.  I’ll have the fudge ripple.  To go.

~Anna Fogel

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On Looking At House #11 (December Poems)

On Looking at House #11

Hermit crabs depend upon
limited resources for cover,
count on the death of a gastropod.

It all hinges on the size of intact
abodes, the abundance of predators,
their ability to clean house.

With a good real estate agent
and an appropriate hit man,
a little crab can live like a king.

~Anna Fogel

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Train Wreck (December Poems)

Train Wreck

Scott holds her
at arm’s length,
making a face.

All bones, exposed skin,
post blood transfusion, deep
in congestive heart failure.

Here.  Pill her twice a day.
Pick off the scabs
so the abscesses can drain.

The doctors give her
3 or 4 weeks, generously.
It’s not her fault

her heart is broken.
Kittens can’t be blamed.
Inspecting her

for anything to like,
Scott offers her
a calm, warm place to die.

~Anna Fogel

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Strange Reactions (December Poems)

Strange Reactions

The potential buyer
asks about treating the sub-flooring.
“What about ammonia?”

Chemistry 101:
It’s the ammonia in cat urine,
a toxic excretion of the kidneys,
that you smell.

Why would you add more?
(Please don’t bleach, unless you
are interested in home-made
chemical weapons.)

“Aren’t there different kinds of ammonia?”
He is married to this idea.

Pause.  Facial twitch.

No. It’s a compound.
Nitrogen and hydrogen,
NH3.

It is what it is.

~Anna Fogel

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Nurse’s Harrow (December Poems)

Nurse’s Harrow

I step away for five minutes
fetching medication,
one minute too long.
The black cat turns blue.

I place the breathing tube.
I could have done better.
A larger diameter, a four
millimeter for a three?

Just one more.

Small things haunt.

~Anna Fogel

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Adumbral (December Poems)

Adumbral

Most seem obvious killers
of our cats –  Deadly
Nightshade, Meadow
Deathcamas, Bayonet.

Some are Biblical
in their descernible malice –
Bleeding Heart, Burning
Bush, Crown of Thorns.

December invites shadier species –
Poinsettia, Mistletoe.
Spring brings
Snow-on-the-Mountain.

~ Anna Fogel

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A Pocketbook of Tricks (December Poems)

A Pocketbook of Tricks

Dissatisfied, amplified
by anger and concern, the
client keeps me tethered two hours
to the phone.

After, I buy
all the grilled Fancy Feast
in the CVS.
Her cat is going to eat.

~Anna Fogel

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On Selling The House (December Poems)

On Selling The House

Cats are considerate,
reflect our imbalances,
piss on important paperwork
to save us the trouble.

Yes, the floor boards
will all have to come up.

~Anna Fogel


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At The Party… (December Poems)

At The Party, After A Friend Vomits On My Dress
(Or, Balanchine On Ballet)

We interpret
the simplest stories
metronomically.

It’s not the dancing
that’s difficult,
it’s knowing
where to stand.

~Anna Fogel

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