Enchantée, says the key in my hand.
When I try to turn it, it turns to sand.
Time is an upgrade, says the front desk.
Reserved for our most valued guests.
Time is an anemone, says the new hire.
Enemy. Amenity. Profanity. Dire.
Whatever you’ve forgotten,
they provide. Loved one,
plot line, pack of minutes?
Glass eyes, false teeth, all sleep is gratis.
we look in our hotel linens.
From Human Hours. Copyright © 2018 by Catherine Barnett. Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc., on behalf of Graywolf Press.