poetry and prose by stephen chute
Sunday, March 16, 2025
the fourth trip down the hall
at night,
when heading to the bathroom
for the fourth
visit,
to eek out
what i can, drip drip, drip,
i stub
my toe on the nightstand,
the one you
bought
with wide metal
claws
for feet.
i mutter out
a curse,
and think of you.
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