Eggshells shatter in a sink disposal,
as plates clank in monotone
when dropped onto the kitchen counter.
Water rushes down the drain
cacophony, an avalanche’s melody.
Journals lay abandoned on the bookshelf,
like memories in dreams that
fizzled in the sleepy morning,
unable to recall where I left off.
A woman’s voice sings on the CD,
I’m reading Korean love poetry.
Keys jangle against shut doors
in the cool light.
Escape seems imminent, necessary, as my
muscles burn into the summer sun,
with these scars like irreversible tan lines from
long sea journeys when
a sweetly strummed guitar
gave me the best amnesia.
(Revised on 06/29/2007)