Flat upon the platter, two pieces of toast
Sit dried, cold, and
Neglected
As shelled peanuts fan out from a half-empty bag
Framing the President on
Time
While the radio drowns the room in static
Ants take ordered turns for this morning’s
Scrambled eggs
No shoes, no socks, gritty feet
An old watch, slow by ten minutes
Quarter to three
A muted haze drawn from the embers
Two used packs of
Cigarettes
Dozing off, pen drooping from hand
Cuffs soaking up a lake of
Nescafé
Scattered Post-Its, notes unhelping
Words fade like
Wilted flowers
Outside the cold wind rattles the screen door
Inside a flood of tears douses the Muse
And destroys Civilizations!
© 1974, Kenneth Koziol. All rights reserved.
