You’re okay with this—

by Emily Symonds

$13 in your checking account,
your last paycheck 27 days ago,
the 53 cover letters and the 2 interviews,
4 sightings in 3 days of your ex, who stopped calling
15 minutes after you slept with him once—
because it’s summer: 92 degrees, fans on high,
air conditioner churning coolness, no bills for 29 days.
Your horoscope suggested patience, recommended
the outdoors: your bare legs now in agony
from the constellation of 18 mosquito bites
clustered around your ankles and knees.
Your nest egg is cracked, your rainy-day-fund
drying out and the city on water restrictions, only 0.72 inches
of precipitation in the last 38 days, the air dry,
sunflowers wilted, and this—this—is not okay at all.