to sit in the sunny
room
in a yoga pose.
a praying mantis, or
frog,
or tadpole,
who's to know.
she'd mediate for
an hour,
hands folded,
arms intertwined,
composed.
and then she'd get
up and stretch.
but it was Monday
and she'd see
the trash truck coming
up the street
and scream up
the stairs for me
to take the trash out.
cursing.
we've got old shrimp
shells
in the bags.
hurry, before
it's too late.
No comments:
Post a Comment