Wednesday Evening

The smell of the workweek is fried fish —
on the verge of burning
and flaccid green beans —
pushed to their limits.

The sound is of arguing & stomping —
the clinking of dishes
the television sparks —
a war in Tel Aviv

The setting off of lawn sprinklers
The smell of moisture on concrete

Published by Cassandra

Writer and visual artist. Avid reader, cuddle bunny. Sweetie, I'd love to.

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