Marbles keep appearing at my feet:
Transparent green and blue cat eye swirls.
It’s 97 degrees and I’m in a cold bath
watching love island on a tiny rectangle
in another tiny rectangle called my phone.
I imagine one day I’ll reminisce:
“Do you remember when I had no AC in the heat wave
and I nearly cried over a gas meter
after moving heavy boxes for 40 days
lost my wallet’s contents,
ordered take-out from a ghost,
became something more
slippery and ethereal,
chilled on ice like flat champagne,
as I plotted an upward trajectory
In one week I’ll have gas and cool air.
In two all my plastic payment squares,
arrived by mail and in four
Everything hung so neat.
Pretty soon all my chrysalis mucus
will be unstuck from the drain.
And maybe in six months, even nine,
an orb made of glass will
arrive from obscurity to remind me:
what is lost can always be found.