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Stories III

House sitting

by Tim Morris

Rock bassist, published poet and academic, Tim Morris, is having a helluva time waiting for home owners to relieve him while on house sitting assignment. The vagaries of electricity supply and the wind seem to be his undoing. But baseball in the dark? Here at MindMyHouse we don’t recommend this!

There is nowhere for going or moving.
Better expect brownouts
better gather up the broken potted plant

and wipe down the counters
and the hum of the dishwasher.

Remember how the wind did it
and how
the wind undid it.

They should have called by now
so I had some friends over
split a whiskey bottle four ways
and played baseball in the dark

it sailed through the air
and I saw the white of it
inches too late.

My jaw was stone
at the time
but now
this flowering bruise.

The morning was raspy
and the rain was a boy
on the roof that awoke me.

The sun is setting soon
no door creaking open
and dinner won’t serve itself

won’t fit in the not-hungry trashcan.
I share meals with a magazine cover
of a presidential candidate
the baggage allowance sheet

a pile of old mail
and three wilted flowers.
I can’t remember the name.

They should have called by now
so I am emptying the fridge
with my teeth

but sometimes I am distracted
from the devouring
by hard light on the leaves
of green bushes
through window glass.

Tim Morris

About the author: Tim Morris

Tim morris lives in Richmond Virginia where he is slowly working on a Master's from Brooklyn College. Previous work has appeared in The Diagram, Philadelphia Poets and The Drama. He plays bass in a rock outfit called Ultra Dolphins, hangs out with his dog, gets sick a lot, sleeps in, eats tofu and makes off-color jokes with his sweetheart.