Avocado Aubade

The sky barely pinkened
When you left for your meeting
And I stood in the kitchen
Of a house that was not mine.

The teapot sang good morning,
The fridge hummed a timeworn line,
A bird cried out shrill warning,
And your car rumbled down the drive.

My toes curled on old cold tile
As a draft pushed under the door;
I plucked an avo from the fruit bowl
And took a knife out of the drawer.

Now there may be another dawn
When blood drips down your counter
And the scent of madness lingers on,
But I will have long left this mountain.

4 responses to “Avocado Aubade

  1. This is about Gatsby, right?


  2. Possibly the opposite of otter poets, I often take a feeling and create an experience to illustrate it. Occasionally I do the other way around, but in general emotion drives the specifics.


Dazzle me!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s