Chapter 12:

Poem 1: Untitled

An Experimental Collection of The Absurd


Living can be satisfying. In the small things,
in the click of a door lock, in the shine of a smile,
in the thick billow of steam from a pan of instant noodles.

Olivia digs into brown sand with her toy shovel.
She finds a centipede, and she picks it up curiously
and pets it softly.

Living can be satisfying. Chopping an onion,
stroking a cat, feeling it purr in your lap—
once Olivia went on vacation and fed a giraffe,

and the giraffe sat down and let her scratch its head.
In the small things, memorable or insignificant,
they find a way back to you.

Living can be satisfying.
It’s good to remember that.
Honestly, nothing is insignificant.

How can it be?
In a world where simply turning off a light switch
can make a child scared,

what is inconsequential?

WittyAcorn
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