Karen wouldn’t have had to go to the asylum
if you’d just put up new wallpaper in the attic.
True, another woman might’ve taken one glance
from the top of the attic stairs and exclaimed,
“Let’s fix up the old place!” or even, “I can’t live
in this dump!” But first whiff of a spider
some girls fall straight to their fragile knees.
I caught wasps in a butterfly net until
one alit and gently stepped along my cheek.
(its tiny feet swallowed the world.) It stung.
The pain was a hole through which god entered.
My lashes thundered on the pillowcase;
I blinked in Morse code all night long.

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