Sunday, May 3, 2015

25 toward the Omer

I spill the
full cup of hot
tea over the keyboard
and the desk and
the floor a boy
laughs at me
nine years ago

over dinner They say
When will you
learn not to move
in ways that make no
ripples you cannot
collect them back
again they are

gone When will
you not disappoint
The computer propped
open upside-down
drips and I
have no shame no
thing to do but
go on breathing

No comments: