Perpetually Typing
Clothes used to matter. Now I don’t even fix supper.
There is food here
Thanks to my husband.
I am typing
All the time
Perpetually typing
Delighting in it
Stuck to a computer
Hours upon hours
Throwing down my truth
So when I die
People can throw the clothes out
But maybe
Just
maybe
Please
maybe
they will not
throw out my words.
Finally reading them for the very first time….
Copyright © Caren Krutsinger | Year Posted 2019
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment