Poem | Crafting Poems and Scrubbing Pots
- Omnibus
- May 5, 2018
- 1 min read
By Audrey Russell
May 1, 2018
I hold onto Billy Collins’
words of the future,
of the dance we can’t imagine.
I hope to waltz around the desk-
ridden grubby tile floor.
Until then, I will Cha-cha slowly
around the gravy-spotted tables.
All the while longing for the
view from my perch on
the couch with pad and pen
of little hands planted
in calloused ones with
little feet two-stepping
as they stay planted on
soft brown leather loafers.
The opinions expressed are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect those of Infuse Student Media or Southwest Baptist University.
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