is the diagnosis that dings even your casual
observation that things may have finally gone
to shit. Your joke that mouse droppings in the garage
will carry contagion the moment antibiotics stop
working will be met with reassurance and no one
will laugh. Instead, the hand held out to steady you
will hold a Xanax and a refutation, as if these are not
manifestations of your nightmare world in real time.
The scorpion that lifts its head against the baseboard
in your kitchen, lit by ultraviolet and the mockery
of prescience will reveal absolutely nothing
you can prove.

Image credit:Ishan Manjrekar

Sara Clancy is a Philadelphia transplant to the Southwest.  Her chapbook Ghost Logic won the 2017 Turtle Island Quarterly Editors Choice Award. Among other places, her poems have appeared in Off the Coast, The Linnet's Wings, Crab Creek Review, The Madison Review, Misfit Magazine, Avatar Review and Verse Wisconsin. She lives in the desert with her husband, their dog, two ordinary cats and a psychotic cross-eyed one.