object lessons
jordyn perazzo
I tell my roommate, the mess makes it look
more lived-in, which is true: when we both
secret our selves to our bedrooms the rest of
the house gapes like a missing tooth, prodding
helplessly at the absence of personality, of
proof of life. give me junk mail on the island,
pages of coupons we’ll never use for subway
sandwiches and orthodontic consults.
give me a sink stacked with mismatched mugs,
piles of shoes kicked off in the hall. give me
trash bags we forget at the door, potato peel
compost, the ceramic bowl housing a solitary
banana and two avocados too-green. give me
textbooks on the coffee table, hydrology
next to the carolingian court, disappearing
ballpoint pens and charging cords galore. give
me urban sprawl and grocery scrawl and the blue light
of the television late at night, our yawns remixing
the theatrical score because we had to finish the
val kilmer batman our dogged channel surfing
unearthed. give me splatters on the stove,
fingerprints on glasses. give me detritus, give
me memory, give me promise we are living too
well to keep it from spilling over onto
everything, everything.
Jordyn Perazzo is a writer from southeastern Oklahoma. She earned her BA in English and Creative Writing from Oklahoma State University in 2023. Her work has previously appeared in the journal Frontier Mosaic and won an Academy of American Poets university prize.
← previous issue 3 next →