By Arianna Sebo

CAPITAL DISAPPOINTMENT

Scissor Wizards
hair whizzers extraordinaire
buzzers and bleachers
braiders and curlers
lady with headphones
greets me at the door
she barely acknowledges
I’m wearing no clothes
she must be listening to
a soap opera
on those phones
I watch her eyebrows
flicker
and
twitch
like a newly born caterpillar
I am disappointed there are
no customers today
I take to the streets
in the hope
that someone will
notice my
nakedness

 

SIGNS

The plants were all dead
when I arrived at your place
the maid must have forgotten
to water them
In fact, your place didn’t even
look clean
Are you sure the person you hired
was a maid?
I found your Oreo cereal spread
out on the kitchen counter in the
shape of something
like a labyrinth
Either you have alien visitors
or the neighbours have been watching
“Signs” again.

Arianna Sebo (she/her) is a queer poet and writer living in Southern Alberta with her husband, pug, and five cats. Her poetry can be found in The Writer’s Club at Grey Thoughts, Kissing Dynamite, Front Porch Review, and Lucky Jefferson. Follow her at AriannaSebo.com and @AriannaSebo on Twitter and Instagram.

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