19.6.30 (kitchen traps)

No longer will my days
be spent like that gnat,
who crawled into the pinhole
of plastic wrap over a used pesto jar;

seeing a way out, but never finding
an opening in the glass coffin
of my vinegar traps.

Sweet apple cider vapors, wafting
towards me to join the dozen submerged
bodies of myself, who didnt notice
the dish soap burdern of memories,
breaking the surface tension I used
to tread so easily on.

My future incarnations will evolve
to instinctually avoid the stench.