The orderly knife and fork drawer

 

 

The orderly knife and fork drawer

 

  

The knives, forks and spoons

stacked each with its own kind, neatly.

A plea for relief from the cacophony

of siblings in an overcrowded, one-bathroom home,

of arguments, loud

and substantial as air,

but weighty with bitterness left behind.

Of parents not being the one each remembers,

screaming with glances everyone could hear.

One washes, one dries, one takes out the trash.

That was the best job.

Alone, swallowed by the country dark.

Fireflies erratic, shooting stars I can touch,

smells from the orchard, fresh fruity apples,

from the chickens, earthy and fetid with promise.

Noises too, some subtle some not,

breaking the moment.

Time to go in.

No dryer ever followed suit.

Knives, forks and spoons all helter-skelter in the drawer.

Until I dried again.

  

 

Brian Cummings

  

Brian Cummings is a retired public relations executive. He started his career as a reporter for a major market newspaper, now defunct, and switched to public relations early in his career. He has written two cookbooks and numerous articles, press releases, and speeches.  More recently he has taken to poetry. His first published poem was in the October issue of Ariel Chart International Literary Journal.  He and his wife, Maureen, live in Allen, Texas.