a couch, grey, bought at Nebraska Furniture
my first major purchase on credit because
she had too many student loans
and the matching chair to its left,
pale fabric covered with dark words,
something i thought ugly
but she liked
across the room is a table,
a graduation present from my parents
that she picked out,
black of course even though i would’ve
preferred natural wood that i could paint,
with two pleather chairs destroyed by cat claws now
and on that table is the television
i had to call the cops to get from her along with
my depression medication that one day in January
and to the left of that is a bookshelf
looming over the room and filled with
pairs of earrings, a bowl of lemons, incense ash,
cards from friends, an old lamp, and photographs
in between books organized in a way
she never would’ve allowed
and there is a fridge off in a nook
covered with magnets, doodles, receipts, and
affirmations from the domestic violence
counseling sessions i attend every thursday
the kitchen cabinets are around the corner
crowded with just two plates, two skillets, two pots,
and the ten different coffee mugs that i bought
at goodwill after she gave away mine
because she thought i shouldn’t be allowed have them anymore,
there’s a basket hanging above the built in cutting board on the counter,
filled with semi-fresh fruit that keeps rotting, and
i keep throwing out and rebuying
cause my stomach is too scared to eat
without all three locks being set
so that she does not come in

NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo Day 16: “I challenge you to write a poem that uses the form of a list to defamiliarize the mundane. “

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