Rental Agreement

The heater is screaming again, a metallic rattle

that sounds like a bag of spoons in the wall.

The mirror is gone, hidden behind the steam

of a shower I took to forget the wind.

I saw the bruise on my thigh this morning,

a map of purple and sickly yellow

where I caught the corner of the table.

It’s funny how I treat this skin

like a place I’m only staying for a month,

waiting for the landlord to notice

that the plumbing is bad and the floor is uneven.