Everyday Lovely

The kitchen table bears the quiet 
cacophony of the morning: raw sugar,
coffee, Mason jars of water, half-eaten
toast, and below, the stool for our feet,
when you pull your chair close and
our knees touch.
I fell asleep that night heavy on your
chest, you counted my eyelashes,
the cool grass between our toes
slipped into sand and ocean and I
swear when I lean close, you are
the beach.
We walked two blocks that felt like a
slip backwards in time, you stared at
me in shocked silence, I sorted sheets
and socks, never was doing laundry
such a thrill.

Lately I’ve been playing around with the verbs in my pieces – lots of past tense, with a random present tense verse scattered throughout. Here, you are the beach is my favorite part of the poem, for many and varied reasons… all of which will remain private. xx, M

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