I don’t usually post poetry because on the rare occasions when I write it, it is usually pretty corny. But I am sorry my dear blogging friends because that is where the three words sent me today–to writing corny poetry. The three words are flesh, novice, and sear.
He was a novice in the kitchen
When he tore the flesh from the chicken
And he threw it in the pan
Oh man, he threw it in the pan
He stood way to near
As he drank another beer
And he watched the meat sear
Oh, man, call the man
Call the medical man.
Morning came. Sandra trembled as she carried a few things to her car. Most of her belongings had been sold. She had been able to keep so little. No home. No money. No place to store what was most precious. What she hadn’t sold with the condo she had taken to a consignment shop earlier in the week.
Dew dampened her toes as she walked across the grass. Probably too early for sandals, she chastised herself as she made her way to her parking spot. No– it wasn’t her spot anymore.
Quietly she opened the door. Silently she loaded her belongings. Noiselessly she slid behind the wheel. Like a ghost, she turned the key in the ignition. And then sobs engulfed her as she realized she had no place to go.
[Three Word Wednesday: dampen, tremble, keep.]
Light filtered in through the generous picture window of Sandra’s third floor condo. The moon reflected off chrome and glass tables. As she slid her hand across the smooth granite counter top a tear rolled down her cheek.
It’s not fair, she thought. Why should I be penalized because of someone else’s unethical behavior.
Sandra listened as her phone continued to ring, but she did not answer. She knew this would be the last time she would stand in this spot and watch the moon light up among the stars. In the morning it would all be over.
In a just world, she thought employees wouldn’t lose their homes because of their employer’s behavior. But, she reminded herself, this is not a just world.