I have a purse that no longer
adheres. The roughed-up velcro
full of suspect scents, old lint.
The tight-lipped tupperware refuses
even to slit her mouth and swallow
her companion blue bowl.
Honey, I admit it’s in bad taste
and will likely open a world
of harshness you never believed
I had in me, but even flies come
unstuck off those vast, sticky reams,
the ones that you dare call affection.
to egon schiele
kristen renzi lives in Bloomington, Indiana, where she earned an MFA in poetry and is currently finishing a PhD in English Literature from Indiana University. She works as an advocate for survivors of physical and sexual violence, and she is passionate about animal welfare issues. She is also a sucker for cotton candy.