Whatever it was was it, wasn’t it?

stove blurry B&W.

Whatever it was that I set out to do
Just now
Didn’t get done
But the oven is clean

To be honest, the oven did most of the work
While we were out it was
Burning, turning whatever that gunk was
To ash

It was a letter
I was composing a letter
Just a moment ago
Reluctant, muddy drafts

But what led me in here, just now?
Whatever it was
Is forgotten
In the cinders in the bottom of the oven
Vacuum, scrub, wash, scrub, rinse
Wipe away the last and

And there I am with tiny you
Fragments of your bones sifting
Through my fingers
Brushing my hands together and
On my jeans
Grit and fragments and silt
Tiny you, slipping through my fingers

To hope to just
Slide into the next space
The audacity of forward, going
Forward with silvered ashes on my hands



About Vicki Caroline Cheatwood

Writerly. Rebooting. Evolving. Searching for great chicken salad.
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One Response to Whatever it was was it, wasn’t it?

  1. Terry M Gresham says:

    Reblogged this on TerryMGresham.

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