Here is this week’s selection! Happy New Year to everyone.

5466.
Cotton flannel pajamas
promise a safe trip through the cosmos
and back home again. The baby sleeps.

5467.
a sulking thunderstorm rising in the foothills –
the mood of the 6th grade gym class
lined up for another session of square dancing

5468.
like peeling potatoes with a butter knife
I sawed away at your story
but never got beneath its skin

5469.
the faint notations on the paper
the magnifying glass
This is the day I begin to feel my age

5470.
the starry night pouring out –
a deep-blue sugar bowl
turned upside down

 
5471.
a light in the house
that shouldn’t be
at the end of the street

5472.
You remember my cousin? With the salt and pepper hair?
She’s moved into such a nice condiment
I heard the woman at the next table tell her friend.

5473.
these thirteen pounds
brought to me and taken away from me
again and again diet after diet

5474.
The eel-creatures eat the train conductor
in the next scene. Notice
the twist of lemon in his hair. I told you
it was a classy film, didn’t I?

5475.
The balcony.
The contemplation of
The push. The fall. The splash. The money.

 
5476.
The old pan so long in use
utters a groan. Burns through.
I never thought it would be so painful.

5477.
Stumbling around the dimly lit hotel room
Eldridge realized he’d rappelled on to the wrong balcony
Now what? (Cue the bassoon music).

5478.
Now, the Model Six Months Old baby boasts
sufficient lung power and energy storage
to scream eight hours straight, more if at night

5479.
the Exacto knife
lazily swiped at the cardboard
but proved to be more interested in your finger

5480.
moldering in the grave
holding a spare key in its teeth
the garden gnome that disappeared one night

 
5481.
seven miles out of town
the abandoned house
awaits its last transaction

5482.
riding deep into the city
the slick snowstorm tumbles harsh and strong
flinging misfortune at the cars on the road

5483.
As the car goes over the cliff
all the afterlives possible
soften and dissolve into just one

5484.
oh you impulsive jug of milk
slopping yourself all over the floor
just to see if I’ll cry. The answer is No.
But the mop? She’s furious.

5485.
what are we,
heiresses,
giggling in the snow?