Monday, August 13, 2012

Aut-um-ism Evening

Slowly,
a collection of toys
forms at the bottom of the stairs
like almonds, uneaten
in the same bowl on the table

Red pies made redder
by his coveralls and white half-on
socks sticking out

She never asked why he was
but only why
he didn't turn on the light.

No comments:

Post a Comment