It’s become routine, lately,
in the late evening,
when the dusk is dipped in blood,
and my skull vibrates
to the dull of monkey cymbals.
Mother and I have both been sick –
health pulled down by a scythe;
a slow process, like graduation.
Our game show on at six
to solidify our existence.
Amanda Tumminaro lives in the U.S. Her poetry has appeared in Cottonwood, Spoon River Poetry Review and Freshwater, among others. Her first poetry chapbook, The Flying Onion, will be released through The Paragon Journal in April of 2018.