The mold in my teacup is just starting to grow.
I left it on the dresser,
and if my wife had caught it
I’d have gotten a lecture before the oversight sprouted.

But she missed that one;
She’s been busy.
And I’ve been me.

I cleaned it up myself
Like I always do.

From the Author

I’ll admit that I love dishing out these smaller works. Capturing a monolithic image or emotion at the expense of my usual narrative-based type of writing feels so satisfying. I’m sure any writer can attest that when we dictate on paper, we can experience a reverence for small moments one otherwise wouldn’t.

This is a poem about selective memory.

Published by The Poetry of Ants

I've been writing poetry since I was little. These poems have always been my means of resolving the world as it is against the world as it should be. Writing has been my great catharsis. I hope that you and I may be able to share in that.

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