New Poem Monday

Happy new poem Monday! (I know it’s Tuesday, but I have been sick the last couple of days so I am giving myself a free pass this week) Here’s what I’ve got for you today:

He tells me I make the coffee wrong
the grounds float; crunching between his teeth

bitter.
I am 9 years old again

sitting on the floor of the bathroom

while my father instructs me on how to clean

“the right way”
over

and over

I clean his bathroom

wash his clothes

always doing it

wrong.
Scrubbing the tile

while he watches

pointing out the spots

I miss

wiping the stains from his toilet

folding clothes flat and still
as a lake in winter.
he tells me I make the coffee wrong

I clench my jaw shut

bitter.

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