Volume 8 Issue 5

The Pigeon

There were pigeons outside his window, again. He could see the soft green and pink beneath the sheen of their feathers.

The toaster oven spit out two browned slices of whole grain bread. He opened the fridge and pulled out the jar of strawberry jam. He grabbed a knife from the drawer, the one to the left of the sink, and proceeded to spread the thick fruit onto each piece of toast. He placed the toast onto a small plate and turned on the stove, shifting the kettle to the proper burner.

                                  spilled milk
( it’s  just that  now there’s none  left and it doesn’t seem
that important until it piles up broken plates dig into your
heels and  you can barely  see the floor anymore  because
When’s  the last time you had the energy to do something
about it  and it piles up again and  you put it off until later
until it piles up until the water level’s at your  windowsill
and now there’s no use and now there’s ) no use crying .