Included in the New Rate

He stood in the hall for eleven minutes.

I counted.

He looked at the radiator,

then at the wall beside it—

the corner where the paper

has been pulling back since October,

curling away from the baseboard

to show what's underneath:

an older pattern, something floral,

yellow where the adhesive dried.

He looked directly at it.

He said: radiator looks okay.

I said: there's also the corner—

He said: hm.

Three days later the notice

slid under my door.

I was home when it came.

I heard the paper scrape the floor

and didn't get up.

I let it lie there

until the cold from the sill

gave me a reason to move.

New rate, effective—

I went and stood in the hall again.

Looked at the corner.

The paper still going,

the yellow still showing,

patient the way things are patient

when they've been covered over

without their agreement,

when they've been waiting

for the glue to give out.