Victor Wooten is the sound of chamomile tea
in a dark blue,
hand-painted, hand-shaped mug
while you wait for the laundry
to finish.
Watch the spinspinspinspiiiinnn …
your bare feet vibrating
with the machine
and your back propped up against the door,
assuming that no one will come through
and disturb you.
Remember the flood of water
pouring out from the inside,
how you slammed the door shut
before it all came out,
then scooted a bucket over
to catch the rest.
You cleaned up the mess
all by yourself
and felt curiously responsible, mature.
Now wonder at the bitter aftertaste of honey
while you hope to God(s)
that it doesn't happen again this time.
in a dark blue,
hand-painted, hand-shaped mug
while you wait for the laundry
to finish.
Watch the spinspinspinspiiiinnn …
your bare feet vibrating
with the machine
and your back propped up against the door,
assuming that no one will come through
and disturb you.
Remember the flood of water
pouring out from the inside,
how you slammed the door shut
before it all came out,
then scooted a bucket over
to catch the rest.
You cleaned up the mess
all by yourself
and felt curiously responsible, mature.
Now wonder at the bitter aftertaste of honey
while you hope to God(s)
that it doesn't happen again this time.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
This piece won the May 2010 Teen Ink Poetry Contest.

Jane3

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