Today's poem is by Andrew C. Gottlieb
Perhaps it's the dust at the cuffs of the walls.
I'm neat but I'm not clean.
Family farther and farther. Cabinets
stacked with cans no one moves.
collect on the counter like debt.
Overhead, the bed
bangs, some small boat riding the surf
No doubt the water stain
on the ceiling tiles is spreading.
and sour milk and orange peels.
Rooms, a rot of molecules. At the sink,
sleeves slip down my arms
like a shudder,
drown in the slate lake.
I feel for the knives that hide by the drain.
Copyright © 2006 Andrew C. Gottlieb All rights reserved
New Michigan Press
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission
Support Verse Daily
Sponsor Verse Daily!
Web Monthly Features
About Verse Daily
Submit to Verse Daily
Publications Noted & Received
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006 Verse Daily
All Rights Reserved
Copyright © 2002, 2003, 2004, 2005, 2006 Verse Daily All Rights Reserved