A moan escapes as I bend down, arm propped on a cooling stove to wipe up one more spill after one more day, and as stubborn streaks slip away I wonder

A moan
escapes
as I bend
down,
arm propped
on a cooling stove
to
wipe up
one more
spill
after one
more day,
and as
stubborn
streaks
slip away
I wonder, “Is
this where
my
poetry has gone?”
#smallpoems