Wet clothes tumble in the wash like hooves of unridden horses galloping around a circular pen. The dishwasher downpours gurgling through the pipes in guttural surrender to its nightly chore, and I am pressing down the keys in new patterns creating constellations with words. These are the meager moments a mother owns for free during lockdown. The dusk tucks the little ones in, then the red wine sips begin punctuated between key skips, a glide forwards and backwards on the obsidian stepping stones of my dream, which tonight is a silvery lake that offers no reflection.
Indoor lights spotlight
swept floors, dusted dreams and
mom’s messy key spills.
Frank is the host for d’Verse’s Haibun Monday tasking us to write a poem capturing the present moment. Join us.