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★
i wonder where the forgotten words live?
in corked bottles, on shelves. attempting to
find an ending while i tie yesterday
afternoon to the tail end of granny’s
tiffin recipe — no sultanas, just
biscuits, chocolate, the curtains not quite wide
enough for your windows, syrup, butter.
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life tastes of half-peeled oranges and slices
of segments of pieces and moonflowers
and what might next be eaten by the mist.
time is the amnesiac’s arsenic.
this is how the world ends: not with a bang,
but lost on the line where you thought you might
find that crockpot and a once-devoured love.
★
12.04.2024
[written for day ten of escapril 2024— ‘fog’]
[full list of prompts available here]
