Sometimes it gets so lonely

Rain beginning with purpose, then hesitating

at the sixth sense of Continue reading

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Wee January poem

His fingers furred with Dorito dust

Orange light / Aztec fashion

have long dispensed with the Finlandia kitchenware.

We use what is not ours.

The record collection pressed against

The wall that is not our wall, is, however.

Spines with their own smile lines, weak, white.

I like to think it listens to us

as we mop gravy from Finlandia

wash up, fold stiff towels

and move on, upstairs.

 

I left Billy Joel on to make

the clock ticks reverberate

against the clothes horse, book piles,

gifted television set, broken chair.

The ironing board, at rest

divides room from storage

 

ticking

printed with use