“Airless and unloved, in the dank basement
of the mind” L. Igloria ~ A Reparation
If a Puddle Was a Day of the Week, It Would be a Tuesday
I took my coffee
back to bed.
My grandmother made coffee from rainwater.
Dad refused to drink it. Feared he’d swallow
a mouthful of amoebae and a case of diarrhoea.
Tuesdays never feel real.
A bit plastic and apologetic.
It’s not the beginning, or
the end, or the middle..
It’s a drain that’s almost clogged but not enough
to notice yet. Unless you lean down deep into
the sink, and listen for a gurgle in the plughole.
And it’s raining.
And it’s Tuesday.
for dVerse and Twiglet #211 “At Close Range” © Misky 2021
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