YUBA CITY, CALIFORNIA

in the corner, a fridge strains

against its avocado tint, its surface

holding tight to chicken grease, clinging

to cold macaroni perfumes. the wallpaper

is avocado and orange cream, giant flowers
misguided in their growth. this flat house

has been emptied of every object except
for the fridge and three brightly dyed rabbits feet, 

which hang from a series of hooks stapled

to a cabinet door. their metal parts

are static and weird gold, clumps of purple, pink
and green molting off tiny black bone, shaved

into significant nails. they are impressive,

and smell what i am sure a brightly furred
rabbit would smell like-- fully anxious, caught

up in neon. i take them all

off their hooks, spread them beneath a starched
unfamiliar pillow, then piss,

crouched over a rattling vent; how could anyone
expect me now to call
this pissed-in space an adequate home?