Debt
Her scissors are dull from cutting
Canceled credit cards in half.
Her first name went to one landfill,
Her ex husband’s last to another.
Between their names yawns the maw
Of debt that must be fed. Which is why
She’s cutting their winter jeans down
Into summer shorts. They’re so poor
She can’t afford to throw the legs away.
She’ll turn them into something.
They remind her of the wilted stems
Of the dandelions the girls brought her
A bouquet of last week after
They caught her crying. Now she stands
At the window, watching them play
In the yard. They’ve dropped their dolls
To pick the dandelions that have gone
To seed. She makes a wish as they
Blow their heads away.