snippet from Poetry
Poetry
Anna's brushing her teeths. I can tell because of the way the sink starts, stops, starts again. It's a gentle drum, telling me we're winding down for bed.
I put painter's tape all over the wall today, where the cabinets are. They'll look pretty soon, I hope. Green paint, hopefully, will make everything look better.

Sage burns, twisting into a cloud of smoke, filling my nostrils with its soapy smell, floss between my fingers, as though it's toying with me. It's not a cat toy, but it's something. I really don't know what to call it yet.

Sweat beads on my brow, New Year's crown of learning how to skateboard, the pushing and balancing, spending hours on the board before discovering one of the wheels doesn't turn. It's not that hard to fix; take pliers, loosen the nut, replace the wheel. Ta-da!

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