It's Still Life

When Twiddling Your Thumbs Just Won’t Do

I’ve emptied the fridge.
There’s a shallow pool
of water on the floor, and
a repairman is due in an hour.
Appointment times are
an opportunity to fidget,

so I rearrange cupboards,
restock tinned veg and beans,
realign spice jars,
fill canisters with rice,
with flour,
with sugar,
with salt,
toss out expired yeast,
revise the shopping list,
eat the last pickle that’s
floating in brine,
clean the oven door,
reset the kitchen clock
because an inaccurate clock
isn’t a clock at all,
then I find my lost pen,
and read the morning post.

And I wait. Wait, as time
spirals toward his arrival.
Such are the joys of scripting
your own time, and watching
sunlight unexpectedly settle
on an empty dining room chair.

written for Miz Quickly, Day 24: Spiral and inspired by dVerse’s word “Waiting”.