A Poem

when time has passed unknowingly

my kitchen reminds me it has

Molly tells me where the bread is 

below where the plates used to be, before the ants

I remember them, the ants 

the ants that infiltrated then infuriated my mom

who caused the first great kitchen migration

I also remember 

the first time I opened the empty bread drawer

butter knife in hand

and wondered if the kitchen walls themselves

painted forest green and framed by floral spirals and dark cabinets

would tear apart at the seams

I found myself floating in an abysmal colorless world

trapped between two large slices of bread on a giant dinner plate

then I saw the sliced white bread on the counter 

the next time it moved 

was because one of the cabinet doors had unhinged

Or was that my dad’s hip?

It doesn’t matter because I was there 

for every shift

for every development

for every life-altering change

but now I had no idea 

why the bread was below

where the plates used to be

before the ants came

and suddenly I felt like a parent that missed one too many recitals

which made my sandwich taste funny

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