Black Holes by Matthew Milia

Though there are so many black holes
The JCPenny and the back of Kohl's
Where rot a lot of things
I can't say

Oh Nicole, your trailer park
Can console any darkness
Spooled around the ground-floor patio
Where the tomatoes
Once cooled in your young night
Don't let it dim your eyesight

Of the divorced split-level mansion
The exit of forced expansion
Now miniatured
The furniture sharpens its imprints
Into the carpeting since
We've dozed off and napped
Is it preserved and plastic-wrapped?

Little Caesars, birthday night
Our dads have seizures and they bite
Their tongues before the rug-burned floor
Where we learned how to die
Where we wrestled, laughed, and tickle-tortured
Till our love made us cry

So Jacqueline, when are you coming home?
Your organ bench is warped and wrenched and so
Many nights I see your bedroom window lights
I guess the widowed ghost ignites

Because they left that house in Union Lake
And I had my First Communion cake
In a weight-room clubhouse of their apartment
Where the freeway air of 275
Rushed when they were still alive

So I extend my endless thanks
Grandchild pranks and oxygen tanks
Hissing to the daytime TV
Where you and me
Crossword puzzles, I was ten
With some promotional pen

And now the doorknobs and windowpanes are
Dripping wet
The dead night is pressing tight against
The glowing light of a heated home tonight
The time machines of television sets
Oh, Mary, let me see that lotto-heart
Let the auto parts break down and die
Wheel around the squealing sound of a
Shopping cart
Smile down the grocery aisle till you
Softly hang your head and start to
Cry
For a while

In Waterford, the discount stores
Sneezing in the freezing rain pours
Sunken women drunken on some far-fetched wrenching dreams
Drenched in Starter jackets of their favorite first-grade teams

Though there are so many black holes
Jacquelines and orphan Nicoles
I know
They all know
Love

All the girls in their smooth teeth
Jot death dates on their loose leaf
I don't know if I'll ever die