Housewife for Halloween
At the school carnival,
I tow a plunger.
Its rubber bowl bouncing
off the asphalt.
The Unfortunate Marriage
Sun does Moon’s laundry each morning,
wrings night from his coat,
tucks him under her bright blanket.
All day he’ll sleep, she’ll burn.
At dusk, she’ll sink.
All night he’ll pluck the linty stars, fling them.