An apple, as red
as it is crisp, awaits on
the blue floral plate.
Domesticated Eve
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An apple, as red
as it is crisp, awaits on
the blue floral plate.
An apple, as red
as it is crisp, awaits on
the blue floral plate.
This is the dance in
side my head. No two left feet.
Only thoughts, spinning.
I must be up in
five hours. It’s like walking a
tightrope…or knife edge.
Argued over what
candy to buy. She wanted
KitKats. Blow Pops won.
Only quiet time
to read tea ceremony
book is in bathroom.
The new furnace kicks
on, and I rise to the warmth
like yeast bread baking.
My small gift to my
self – a few words at the end
of a busy day.
Every night I
play Russian Roulette with sleep
instead of bullets.
I said I’d be in
bed by ten. Then midnight. Now
it’s one. How ’bout three?
I lock the TV
behind the armoire doors so
I can get work done.