Monday, April 18, 2011


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


  1. I liked this. You have a knack for poetry for sure.

  2. Thank you, Michael. ^^ I've been working on it for a few years now so it's good to know that I'm improving.

  3. Hmmm...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!

    And hi! Thanks for your comment -- it's good to be back :)

  4. 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!