Sonnet from the Porch de Grump

Haha! 'Twas just about to click "Compose"
when your own verse (more credit than it's due)
dropped in my box. And yes, last night, who knows
what time, I thought about our gutters, too,
and then our lack of ladder, lack of shed,
then of that evil, ling'ring basement stench...
and then of painless ways to make me dead.
When I was able, finally, to unclench
my jaw and fists, I thought of our TVs—
the both of which I own—occupied hour
'pon bloody hour; and then, with great unease,
I thought of four men fighting for one shower,
and I was back to death... by heart attack
or black mold. There, now: aren't you glad I'm back?

[For Maria Forsythe-Chopin, upon returning from New Orleans to Old Hell]