Tiny Ghosts

There are tiny ghosts

in my kitchen.

 

The first one I found

swimming in the sugar pot.

It holds the spoon whenever

I go in

and grapples with wispy fingers.

Eventually I pull free

but my tea still tastes bitter

despite the half spoonful of sugar.

 

The second sits and cracks

the tops of the eggs in the fridge.

Perhaps to protest the fact

I refrigerate my eggs

or to remind me of the sound

a heart makes when it breaks;

it is slow and happens

over time.

 

The third hangs off the lid

of my milk and squeals;

with pleasure or pain

I cannot decide

but by the end of the day

my ears are ringing

along with the kettle

which sings too often

during the weeks I spend

at home alone,

all of the time.

 

The fourth languishes

in the sink with cups, spoons

and takeaway plastic

I will end up discarding soon.

I’m pretty sure it is the reason

my taps leak; the drips

which drop perpetually

all day and all night,

the tears I am too tired

to cry.

 

And the fifth appears

in glimpses; in the stainless steel

taps and the chrome

handles on my oven and microwave.

She is the most familiar

of all;

because I’ve seen her

in windows and mirrors

elsewhere in my house.

 

There are tiny ghosts

in my kitchen and I

cannot decide if they

make me feel more or less

alone.

 


 

© Kristiana Reed 2019

12 thoughts on “Tiny Ghosts

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