The Sponge

We’re the soggy sponge

at the kitchen sink:

damp. engorged. useless.

Tattered edged, sour smelled.

Purpose all used up.

 

I stay in love

with cold, dead things.

I only see what they were.

 

Everything with a shelf-life

starts clean:

sponges. newborns. you and me.

We all begin unabashed.