A Bowl of Room Temperature Soup
I am stuck
like the noodle
that keeps slipping off this spoon
swimming in shallow sleep
between too much
and not enough to do
murky waters
swirling thoughts in twisted loops and twirls
floating around this soup bowl
that’s about to go cold.
4 thoughts on "A Bowl of Room Temperature Soup"
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I wish I had your ability to imagine myself as a noodle in a soup bowl. also love the last line
Absolutely love it. Comparing yourself to that noodle we have all encountered makes this super relatable.
Enjoyed the culinary journey of your poems and the cast of characters. Love this title!
Favorite line:
between too much
and not enough to do
love metaphor of the poem