Three Poems – S. Hunter Mercer

 

 

My Apartment Needs to Shut-Up

My roommate is asleep on the couch.
His bed is not quite twenty feet away,
it amazes me he prefers to twist his spine into letters
than sleep without morning pain.
He’s left the apartment for me to deal with.

I’m not sure if he’s drunk but the bourbon bottle says
he must be.
I tell the bourbon bottle
to mind it’s own damn business.
The half-eaten ramen wants me to throw it out
I remind it I am not responsible for it’s well-being.

I try and scrub tired from my eyes.
It has taken up residence there for the past few days.
Tell myself I’ll sort this all out in the morning
the mess on my bedroom floor just laughs at me.