Liquidation Sale by Rachel M. Simon

You will reach a lifepoint
when the pictured collars
of thirty years ago
evoke a warm ketchup feeling, not a
what were they thinking? electrode.

We’re all dying, all pulling
our laces so tight, later
you will have red line evidence
on your bare feet
sliding under the untucked.

In olympic diving the goal
is to make a splash much smaller
than my olive propelled
from toothpick to gin.
Ties are just stain magnets afterall.

Every seven years you have
an entirely new body.
Each cell free of the crap
of shitty 1998. In nine years
you’ll have the same bad habits.

Around age thirty
you’ll talk freely about
your STD history.
If you have kids you’ll talk
poo and movie ratings.

Who do you have to know
to die painlessly in your sleep?
Rumor has it the afterlife menu
is bland, go ahead
ride the motorcycle.

Arthritis, shingles, eyelash curler,
hemorrhoids, hair loss, hangnail
depilatory, puberty, osteoporosis,
mowing the lawn, short term,
long term memory loss


by Rachel M. Simon

published in H_NGM_N #4


  1. Thanks for posting my poem! I’m glad that someone in Texas who is not part of my mother’s Dallas quilt group has read one of my poems. I especially like the picture you posted with it.
    Rachel Simon

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