Shirkman

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.
…Eventually


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.

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