chores | nicolas w

i pour leftover water

from the electric kettle

over a garden grown tomato.

i watch soft as the skin

sloughs off & the orb

shivers itself naked.

i awake crushed by night

in a cavern where sounds of

lost echoes act like dew.

i dig through a maze

made of yellow squash—

lick blooms of small cuts

building quick on the arms.

i draw my oblong eye

over soil’s severed tithes—

count a bounty rotting

quicker than teeth can chew tongue.

i stand on my head

& water the lawn

with an ivory handled pistol—

i confuse coils of hose

for a tail i lost, long,

and in longing grow new bones.

i bathe in sun & dry

dirt to find sounds

that might crest the crust

of our eyes.

i wrinkle my nose at the clock

pretending i’ve time, plenty time,

to waste, and someday, maybe rise.

i call my medicine back duly,

anointed by throat as crown

& in the viscous shout

of vocals sing, “someone, anyone,

look what i’ve found.”

i drink coffee tucked back

in a cul-de-sac.

i rhyme smells with a taste

that i dreamed.

nicolas is a first year MFA candidate at Colorado State University. his work can be found in Bombay Gin and various other publications.