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  You could have a big dipper   

The Anger in My Pocket by Glennys Egan

i fidget absent-mindedly with its sharp

edge, like a cracked tooth i can’t stop finding

with my tongue. i was right about phoebe bridgers

and everything else. someone bothers me

for a light and i cup my hand to block

the wind, offer them the way your eyes

followed me from the bed to where i stood

naked and you asked if i wasn’t twenty-

two. the greatest praise you could think

to give: that i am not what i am. i’m

still pissed you skipped the dog’s

birthday party on zoom. a stick of

gum, a set of keys, your stupid smirk and

forty-odd houseplants thriving off neglect.

what good is a south-facing window when it

blinds us every morning? i find a five-dollar bill

with your face on it in the coat i wore that

winter. the diamond ring you bought me, cheapest

of its collection, is no longer on my finger. with

fists balled in my pockets, i’ll keep holding on

to all the ways i hate you.


Raised in the Canadian prairies, Glennys Egan writes poetry in Ottawa, where she works for the government like everyone else. Her writing has appeared in Taco Bell Quarterly, Funicular Magazine, and several other lovely places. You can find her and her dog, Boris, online at @gleegz.

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