Still
Life
June’s
eyes took in the round kitchen table
littered
with crumbs of wheat toast and two
bleached
napkins stained with strawberry jam.
The
cat jumped from her lap and tipped over
an
empty glass. She watched it roll to the edge,
fall,
and shatter.
An
unfamiliar man had appeared in her dream
again
and announced their house would shake
from
a widening crack in the earth’s mantle.
And
thirty minutes ago when the morning news
hour
began, while Charles poured fresh coffee
into
her mug, he told her he was moving out …
needed
a new connection to something vital.
A
fault line was evident in their [blank].
What
was the word he used? Their what?
Their
[blank] what?
Her
mind went blank, dotted only with tan
crumbs,
red smears on napkins, and a coat tree
that
toppled over when he grabbed his cap
and
strode with focus out the door.
Jean
Biegun
Really cool work.
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