me and the subway cup
are having a staring contest
because he has nothing better to do
and it’s a distraction from the disaster around us
he’s just about to give in
when the morning wake-up rings
startling me and allowing him to gloat over the win
the trash carpet scrapes my ankles
but I push onward to the still body
passed out on the dirty kitchen floor
“Mom? Time for work.”
doesn’t even flinch
the cup heaves a sigh as I leave it
with only a drunk for company
I liked this. You have a knack for poetry for sure.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Michael. ^^ I've been working on it for a few years now so it's good to know that I'm improving.
ReplyDeleteHmmm...what an interesting angle. I had to read this twice. I love that you don't get the full picture until the end, and that the subway cup kind of "loses." The play on perspective is very well-done. Great poem!
ReplyDeleteAnd hi! Thanks for your comment -- it's good to be back :)
Like Bess, I read it twice. I feel like the cups stands for more and is a device to explain what else is gong on. Well done!
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