| ZYGOTE IN MY COFFEE.COM |
 |
 |
| © 2006 zygoteinmycoffee Ink. |
| Home |
| Submit |
 |
| A bark and then
the roof twists off. I see pieces rolling around on the tarmac behind her, burnt coins splash into the wishpool of rubber that started the trip as a tire. A dog and a woman run howling from their home, make it to the mailbox, one foot on the road before they turn, and cautiously heel back onto the porch. This poem picks up at the debris on the road, a firetruck pulls up and washes it away. |
 |