by ANISSA LYNNE JOHNSON
leftover chicken broth stagnant on the stovetop
a layer of film like the first frost of winter
dishes in the sink, on the kitchen counter
dishes cradled by the curves of other dishes
mascara streaks on satin pillowcases
covers crumpled like tissues on the coffee table
dishes in the dining room, on the nightstand
dishes repulsed by the mold of other dishes
supermarket flowers withered on the windowsill
fruit flies feasting on unclaimed nectar
four coffee cups half empty beside your armchair
About the Author
Anissa Lynne Johnson is an MA candidate at Northern Michigan University. Her work has recently been featured in Tiny Seed Literary Journal. When Anissa isn’t traveling around the world writing and speaking, she can be found at home with her new husband Ben and their nine plant children. Don’t tell the others, but her favorite child is a large cactus named Shaqtus.
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Comments
Nicely done.