The dishwasher hums, and the whooshing of its water drowns out the crickets. I eat my oatmeal out of Frankie’s Frosted Flakes bowl: not another clean one remains.
warm aftertaste
empty pill containers
beside bottles
first published in Image Curve, May 14, 2020
UPDATE: for dVerse Poets’ OpenLinkNight #267 (pubtended by Grace)
The Pub is open! Come join us1
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