As I find myself in the midst of tax season plus a million other little daily chores—something about the shift into spring brings them to the surface, perhaps—I keep thinking about the magic of, stay with me, chores. The spoons are all dirty in the sink. Then they are clean! Then they are little reflective dishes that cradle sweet morsels to your lips. They reflect light and your own face. They make a little chiming sound when they clink together.
© 2024 Tyler Mills, Brooklyn Poetry Studio
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