Entropic Digressions | G. R. Bilodeau

Beware the nights when the rain smells of urine and the cats shy away from the sill, when maniacal laughter is all that seems real and the sky looks back at you with the vibrant degradation of blackberries in a puddle of unearthed sewage. You think you see a car crash in a raindrop on a windshield, or a woman by the Delaware River who makes you call your mom before handing you a toothbrush, a soft pack of Newports, and sending you on your way, or perhaps it’s just Shawn, a nail in his foot and a handful of dirt which he throws in your eyes with a laugh that signals defeat, the passage of time elusive as a wry grin.

Forgive me, Window, this continuity of coffee and cigarettes, fetid fog of a yellow tongue, strangled breath at pointblank range; forgive these entropic digressions, ascent of my disregard, punctured by intent and the desperate rap of a chapped fist on a pane of glass that will never open again.

G. R. Bilodeau is a peripatetic poet and pet care specialist from the banks of the Ramapo River. Their work has appeared most recently, or is forthcoming, in SurVision, HASH Journal, and As of Late, among other journals and anthologies.