poems by owen lucas

Kitchen slash living room New
England, organic cereal box idle
on the counter of granite color
imitation, creamy vanilla sink
that can't stand boiling water, a
little row of soap & liquids handy
by extendable tap and plastic tumbler.
Petrol station glass left in sink,
with a sip of stale tap-drip hung
in the goggle bottom. Dish cloth
crumpled green drying like brand
new modern sculpture, neighbor
to white bowl symmetrical each way
but for cold potato fry fat in the
coin-size concave dimple. Cupboards
stolid brown rectangular full up
mugs plates bags champagne flutes,
all sealed up fresh dusted waiting,
dullest utility terracotta army. Dust
bunnies bustle back behind in
crevasses, where the screws and glue
hold the whole deal up there.