The clutterby Emalisa Rose
Those frames from the flea market
that the purple haired lady sold for
a dollar. Most of them warped;
the glass, full of scratches.
Six cups in the cupboard, from
our trip to Las Vegas, drawings of
dice on them, chips on the handles.
The drawer of lone socks, inkless
pens, non-stick sticky pads, and
the four old remotes, for the old
school tvs. What were we thinking
by keeping them?
Open the bins, toss out the crap.
Let us get free of the clutter.
* * * * *
When not writing poetry, Emalisa Rose enjoys crafting and hiking. She walks with a bird group twice a month through the neighborhood trails. She volunteers in animal rescue and tends to cat colonies. Her work has appeared in Writing in a Woman's Voice, Spillwords, The Beatnik Cowboy and other grand places. Her latest collection is On the whims of the crosscurrents, published by Red Wolf Editions.