Sonic Drops

Meditations of a Christ follower, a time traveller, a mommy, a poet and a nurse

A Cleaned Out Kitchen for Dad

They thought his rugs were filthy
so they threw them out
they did not wash them

They found a box of paper clippings and sayings
laying in a basket
on the table
under the lamp

Snippings in black cursive
“Mo Cushla”
and
“The pump don’t work cause the vandal took the handle”
Snippings in black cursive, with words they of course did not understand
So they shoved the basket with clippings and black-cursive wisdom
into a cabinet into a dark space unseen

Replaced his dish-soap for a taller bottle
a better bottle bought at Target with the fucking word
“Method” across the top

Brought in a new modern microwave
even though he hadn’t used one in 20 years
And praised the Lord when he chose to take communion from a chaplain
in the hospital

Backwards awkward do-gooding
But I said nothing
Only stolen glances in his direction
He in his glasses and new haircut and cane
My father the healer
the carpenter
surely blessed by all the do-gooding
surely more comfortable with all his new modern things

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