Sunday, April 11, 2021

NaPoWriMo, Day Eleven, Poem Eight





Safe

I steer 
my body

in way of
steam roller
 
while hands
do dishes.
 
Feet march
to orders,
 
I keep
 things going.
 
Nice guy
no spine.
 
Not enough
to cancel,
 
shelf life shuffles
off on his own.


No comments: