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China Cabinet

 

Listen—we are not discussing
private matters. We are discussing how the rain strikes
a teacup, a platter,
a spoon. Left outside, they are
vulnerable, the bare skin, the touch
of water to metal or china—
the tick tick tick—the clicking
of a jaw. It happens: you leave them
out in the open, under all that sky,
and around midnight, you wake. It is raining,
and you remember. The table is placed
somewhere between a fence and the edge
of the woods, open like a mouth.
And the dishes, they are like children,
clustered there. You walk out into
the rain and hear the call
of a night bird. And then another,
answers.

 

 

Published inBlogging & PoemsMy Poems

2 Comments

  1. Mark Mark

    I love this! I love the tone, from the opening line. Very good writing, McKenzie!

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