Rental Property

There’s a bruise on my shin the color of a plum,

and I can’t remember the corner that claimed it.

I was clipping my nails, watching the keratin fall,

just little crescents of waste in the white sink,

and I realized I’m just the tenant in this skin.

My shoulder carries a red mark from the strap

of a bag I’ve been hauling since seven am.

It’s a strange thing to live in a house that breaks

without asking your permission first.

I’m just the guy who has to pay the utilities

until the lease is up and the lights go dark.