On the Kitchen Windowsill
There’s a finger-length silver shoe with a notch, it’s an ashtray but never used as such, and next to it a small terra cotta chicken with a wooden spoon protruding from the back of its neck, for salsa I’m told, bought it in Cartagena on a hot day after a miserable night having unwisely forgotten about the no ice in drinks rule, and then there’s a red felt lined silver box with an etched star on the top from a ship’s naming ceremony in Hong Kong, followed by a brass mortar and pestle that belonged to my husband’s aunt, and when she passed, it passed on to me, and then two blue glass insulators, which fell from pylons beside a rail track on a mountain pass whilst hiking in Washington State, and then a wood pill box from a friend who visited from Texas, but pills have never seen the inside of it, followed by a Korean tea pot the colour of mirky pea soup that I bought in a Seoul market while my daughter-in-law was buying wool yarn, and probably my favourite thing, a small white heart-shaped stone that my granddaughter found on a walk along a beach on the Chesapeake Bay. And yes, it is a very long windowsill.
Written for NaPoWriMo Day 7: a list poem in the form of a run-on sentence, and Ragtag Daily Prompt “wise” although I went opposite with “unwise”. AI Digital Artwork is created using Midjourney. Imagery and poems ©Misky 2023 Shared on Twitter #amwriting @midjourney @napowrimo2023 #ragtagDailyPrompt #RDP
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