you listen
to the ice maker
churn
out chunks
of frozen
water, ornaments
of ice.
it keeps
working, never
stops.
there is no
rest for what is
has to do.
its single purpose
in life
being fulfilled
day in,
day out,
never complaining,
or murmuring
when you step
out of the room.
how virtuous
it is.
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About Me
- Stephen Chute
- west springfield, virginia, United States
- these are all FICTIONAL stories and characters and are in no way representative of any real experiences in my or anyone else's life. any similarities are purely coincidental, except for the dog poems.
1 comment:
Aahaa! A poem about nipples! Finally! At last! I mean, isn't that what ice makers are for? To create little squares of frozen water intended to rub on eager, full breasts after chilling your after-dinner glass of Bailey's?
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