To Dust Or Not To Dust

 

—Poetry by Lauren McBride, Texas, US
—Photos Courtesy of Public Domain

MY X-FILES
 
On blue days


and Tuesdays,


I stroll among



 

my poems


that yearn yet


for publication—



 

sampling, tasting,


letting their words


l i n g e r



 

on my tongue,


listening       


to them . . .

 



each one wondering


"What's wrong


with me?"


(prev. pub. in Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, January 8, 2016)

 

 

 

 

  

TO THE MAKERS OF BATH PRODUCTS
 
Those of us with poor vision
take off our glasses
when in the shower
and can no longer clearly
read the label on your product.
 
We already know which
brand we bought.
 
What we really want to see
in big, bold letters
when sopping wet
and half blind is whether
we just picked up shampoo,
conditioner, or body wash.

 
(prev. pub. in Your Daily Poem, April 18, 2022) 

 

 

 

 
 
AT WIT’S END      
 
suffer the gray —                    
not aging keratin
perhaps
 
perhaps gray matter
befuddled brain cells
leaking out
 
leaking out —
their purpose
forgotten

 
(This joined haiku first appeared in Songs of Eretz
Poetry Review, August 16, 2016.)

 

 

 

 

 

SPOILED


You knock at my door


with a sparkle in your eye,


head held high,


high hopes in your heart,


a rose in your hand,


a greeting on your lips,


and a greeting on mine:


"You're late."

 
(prev. pub. in Boston Literary Magazine, Fall 2008,
under the pen name Elizabeth L. Collins) 

 

 

 

 
 

PROCRASTINATOR’S PLIGHT
 
"I’ve put this off too long," I sigh, 


surveying the chaos before me.


With broom and duster in my hand


I can’t get past the doorway!



 

One shoe I spy, and my best shirt


where dust bunnies swirl in place.


Pop cans, socks, old magazines—


I’m starting to clear a space.



 

I venture a step and hear a crunch, 


look down to find my glasses


lying crushed beneath a broken plate


caked with something like molasses.



 

The TV sits collecting dust—


remote's been lost for months.


As for walking over to turn it on?


Tried that exactly once:



 

Got tangled in a towel,


smacked my head against the wall.


Braced myself for impact— 


piled laundry broke my fall.



 

Just found the missing car keys,


and a cockroach, thankfully dead.


Almost there, I can see it now.


I’ve finally found my bed!

 
(prev. pub. in Your Daily Poem, March 31, 2014)

________________________

Today’s LittleNip(s)
by Lauren McBride:

OLD FASHIONED
 
Storied keys feel left for dead.
Typewriter waits for fingertip tread—
mutely gathering dust instead.

 
(prev. pub. in Songs of Eretz Poetry Review, June 5, 2018)
 
* * *

potato chip bag
expiration date
unnecessary

 
(This sci[na]ku first appeared in Songs of Eretz
Poetry Review, February 8, 2015.)
 
* * *
 
twice a year
the same question,
"Do you floss?"

 
(This senryu first appeared in Failed Haiku, March 2020.)

_________________________

Lauren McBride finds inspiration in faith, family, nature, science, and membership in the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA). Nominated for the Best of the Net, Pushcart, Rhysling, and Dwarf Stars Awards, her poetry has appeared internationally in speculative and mainstream publications for young adults and adults, including Asimov's and Fantasy & Science Fiction. Her chapbook, Aliens, Magic, and Monsters, is forthcoming from Hiraeth Publishing (2023). She enjoys swimming, gardening, baking, reading, writing, and knitting scarves for U.S. troops (https://opgrat.wordpress.com/2014/01/17/scarves-for-troops/). Lauren first visited the Kitchen on June 26 of this year. Welcome back, Lauren!

__________________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

For upcoming poetry happenings in
Northern California and otherwheres,
click on
UPCOMING NORCAL EVENTS
(http://medusaskitchen.blogspot.com/p/wtf.html)
in the links at the top of this page.

Photos in this column can be enlarged by
clicking on them once, then clicking on the x
in the top right corner to come back to Medusa.

Would you like to be a SnakePal?
All you have to do is send poetry and/or
photos and artwork to
kathykieth@hotmail.com. We post
work from all over the world—including
that which was previously published—
and collaborations are welcome.
Just remember:
the snakes of Medusa are always hungry—
for poetry, of course!