Looking Up

IMG_3567

Nose to laptop,

buried in messages—

was that funny?

why is there silence?

did I offend?—

a voice from upstairs, muffled,

“Did you call the kids?”

“No, let them call us!”,

smells like the meat needs

turning over, table still unlaid,

“Can we eat soon? There’s

something I really want to

watch” and shit I haven’t

washed the salad, this

poem is still unfinished and I

forgot to look up.

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