my husband drinks a lot of milk. (fragments)

looked in the fridge. groan.
dry cereal, again. where does it go?
can't imagine.
the wide open mouth. no swallowing.
black hole where it goes. no hope of a bottom.
see, on the counter? evidence sits.
hollowingly empty, devoid of liquid!
on the grocery list again: milk.

2 comments:

Shilly said...

I like this, very clever. I have a similar problem, but with roomates (thanks goodness roomates aren't forever, haha) and instead of milk its everyones inability to wash their own dish. I feel you pain and really enjoy the poem. Very clever.

katie said...

The image of the wide open mouth, followed by your "no swallowing?" Loved it.