By Ray Sharp
This broad plank of a table,
wood warped and wavy,
pitches the most familiar things —
cups, bowls, my orange thermos —
at canted angles, slightly askew,
unpredictably if not quite
perilously, so that we pause
even in breathing, in wonder
at the strange arrangement,
a poem.
Copyright Sharp 2020
Ray Sharp retired to north central Washington state after a career in local public health in Michigan. His poetry and short fiction pieces have appeared in dozens of print and online journals. His poetry collections include Memories of When We Were Birds (Red Dashboard Press 2013) and Dating Tips for Conservatives, A New Poetry Primer for a Desperate Age (2017).
All work by Ray Sharp
