The Swear Jar

The swear jar

has overflowed

it pays the rent now

eating the coins meant for Paris

gone, but, I can see it right there

meant for anything else

Cancer in the tupperware

on sale, three for ten

diamonds in the gutters

look closely between the cigarette butts

and the chewing gum

sick little stars

I’d like to return to the diner

Grilled cheese with a diet coke

please excuse me ma’am

could I get a lemon with this

if it’s not a hassle

thank you so much —

I have nothing:

            higher education in an envelope

            bad manners

            too many shoes

            a wristwatch permanently set wrong

            an allergy to good fortune

and everything:

            passion without talent

            cotton underwear

            love in my heart

            a charger at someone else’s apartment

            a name no one gets right

I’ve meant to become a better person

instead I bought canned peaches

and a backup lighter —

stayed out with people whose names

I can’t even recall now,

and now kiss without closing my eyes.

The world is ending in the pantry but still,

the jar spills over,

I say thank you,

thank you so much,

I’m sorry,

thank you.

Arden DeCanio is a writer and educator based in New York. Her work interweaves the absurd with reality, exploring themes of complex love, womanhood, identity, and resilience. Poetry allows her to dive into life's contradictions with honesty and heart. When not reading, you may find her running through the park or at bar trivia under yet another ridiculous team name.