"Ordinary Things"
The shape of water as it spills
from your cupped hand down
the stainless steel sink.
Sound of pages turning
across a chintz sofa while we share
a silent evening alone.
The way a can opener
cuts into a lid or a woman
walking by herself wearing next to nothing
in snowflake weather
with her thumb out.
A car always stops.
Sometimes it takes duct tape
to hold things together:
a victim who cannot speak,
a leather sofa the cats have torn apart.
I can no longer mend or heal
or change and neither can you.
This is the long haul.
So much cargo
must be left behind.
© 2008 Teresa White
Follow this link to comment
|
|
