Untitled, by Kelly Nickerson
I can hear him in the kitchen
pouring a drink
as if he lived here and
knew where all the good glasses were kept.
I must have dozed off between
my phone alight
with the primal request
and his key slipping into the lock.
I can't imagine why he comes here when she,
lithe and flexible and organized and
waits for him at home.
This poem was written as part of the 20 Poem Challenge.
Kelly Nickerson, Lifelong dreamer and blue-collar worker. Graduate of Office Administration at NSCC and Business Administration with a concentration in Accounting, also at NSCC. Damaged by heartbreak and heart failure. Dog person. Has learned to make soap, (one batch), paint (one picture). Amateur genealogist with an interest in DNA. Drives a big old modified Jeep. Loves Patron Silver and 40 Creek Whiskey, hates Jagermeister.
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