We pray the good times roll and what’s dead stays buried.
Mothballs, cake, and bitters in the cabinet,
mudstains on the carpet telltale under the table.
We’re a day ahead of schedule but well-behind on laundry,
can’t tell clean from dirty half the time.
Self-care comes second when she’s on the table,
think I’m remembering what it’s like to forget.
4 thoughts on "untitled"
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Love the poem and its details! Nicely done. (Although I do yearn a good title)
Agreed. And I love the flow.
The poem has a lot to offer and great details. I agree about the title.
Love the barrage of images here.