In first grade we learned about Halley’s Comet
When it comes back I will be eighty-three
I don’t know why this feels significant
The engravings on my wedding ring
are worn smooth
My fingerprints can’t be documented with ink
I keep Palmolive and white vinegar under the sink
Walking down aisles of cleaning products
fills me with the desire to stockpile
My parents are still alive but we do not talk
about things that matter
I have never had a manicure
I have seen the aurora borealis
I have had sex with one person
Two of those things are true, one is a lie
I gave up my solitude before I knew what I had done
I fill the sink with steaming water and suds
Plunge in with bare hands
Outside, streetlight dissolves starlight
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 5.
Emily Updegraff is a staff member and an MFA student at Northwestern University. She has published poems in journals including Third Wednesday, The Orchards Poetry Journal, and Umbrella Factory, and is a regular book review contributor at Great Lakes Review.
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