Kyle McCord Watching Hoarders with My Father

Anne has fifty crates of antique cat’s eyes

Ray says he invented the power source

for the Voyager 2 that’s why

he needs fifty rusted junkers it’s obvious

Doris can do without the swimwear

flamed lime with mildew thirty

Maltese puppies coiled in a planter

Jim lost his mother Chastity

drank a handle of Beam a day

mouthwash when cash ran out

you’re a Nikon panning

her hallway fireworks burst

like blood from a buckshot wound

the night Cindy’s son drove

off the overpass she keeps

his photo on the bureau

above forty pounds of diatomaceous

earth to ward away ants away

silver fish away roaches like careless

travelers on a highway

Don knows his wife

is leaving either way

Rhonda is just another

object with this filter Randy

is fifty pinball machines Smokey

is two teeth and a stained nightshirt

Dan can’t imagine transcending

he is a cluttered cage

peppered with droppings

a ragged cast iron consider this

pan over Ron’s kitchen

listen to this audio

where Wendy finally breaks

we’ll splice this in the credits

she thought she’d die

in this house at a certain angle

she’s just her hoops

we’re this smoky gaze watching

the room fill up Anne draws the shades

to stop anyone from looking.

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