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Loose Leaf Shower Thoughts

by Mike McClean 9 months ago in sad poetry
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by Mike McClean

January 2021

I step under the spout to

rest my eyes, letting it pour

scalding water over this thin cage

filled with a brittle bouquet of

geranium, cedarwood, and dust.

My mind seeps out in a cloud,

and a clanking metal fan toils

futilely at the foggy pustule,

like a silver spoon absently

swirling artificial honey that

never quite seems to dissolve.

"Why do you drink this stuff?"

no one asks.

Tired bones, cast too often

to be fully present, have sunk into

the bitter warmth to steep,

so I turn instead to dead leaves,

weeping antioxidants.

"Tomorrow will taste better,"

no one claims.

Yet oxidizing iron eyes remain

blind to the dregs forming

galaxies around the drain.

sad poetry

About the author

Mike McClean

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