At the kitchen sink
I see my neighbor has freed
herself today from her house
stands in her driveway hands raised
crying to the wind the wild outdoors
rusty hair a-tangle,
her reedy body thinned by loss
misuse
delusion.
She lives on green smoothies
wine vodka.
She dashes to her mailbox to pluck
a yellow daylily her only flower patch.
Her only sun-moment for the day.
5 thoughts on "At the kitchen sink"
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Sad. I understand the distance the kitchen window provides. “Her only flower patch. Her only sun-moment for the day”. Sad, but great, ending .
Oh my, such powerful observational skill you have demonstrated. The words will linger because of the care with which you have woven them for us.
Bruce
A poignant snapshot of a (probably alcoholic) recluse. The last line is so sad, so perfect.
Thanks Kathleen – yes, sad
What a vivid sad picture you have painted. Very good.