One of my friends recently quipped that I’d have to go back to some of my hellish previous circumstances to keep writing beautiful poetry. (Of course, I said, “Hell no. I’ll just keep writing novels.”) And then he suggested that I stop writing poetry if I started writing about lint. Well, you know, my brain wouldn’t let it go. And I was sure I could make even lint interesting. 😀 Here’s the product of that brief poetry exercise. And I don’t think it’s my best work, but I was constrained to the topic of lint.
Nothing is the same
now that you’re here.
Even my lint screen yields tiny clues.
Darker than before.
More sand. More dust.
And dog hair–Sighs–
Layers of dog hair.
And it’s cleaned more often,
you know, before it’s a fire hazard.
If you change something so small as a lint screen,
I wonder what the rest of the world sees.