Vanilla (a poem)

New candle…

A crust of stolen moments
stolen back
is lost during the getaway

Smoke from the snuffed-out candle
colors the dark corners
where nothing grows but dust bunnies
with nowhere else to go

I’m hungry but don’t feel like eating
sleepy but don’t feel like sleeping

After tomorrow
the countdown starts—
will we make it to the new year
without further loss of life?

If not, I should probably go
buy more candles

(29 November 2018)


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