Jasmine Tsai Poet I do not know?

Why breakfast matters

I accidentally burned my breakfast toast.

I gave a thirty minute monologue
on this heinous crime.
To what’s left of the crust,
I stared, then cursed, then laughed
so hard the room shivered
and in the echoes—
Surprise!
I found the voice I choked
for being ‘inappropriate’—

—Time to toast.

I was startled by my cracked laughter,
as the cat groomed herself 
indifferently witnessing 
my twenties 
spent trashing a toaster.

I announced, to the stinging smell of embers,
“We’re filing a complaint
to whoever put us
in this world where you can’t trust a toaster…”
But we all know,

in a week,
I'll likely trust it again.

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