A cup of coffee is growing cold. The morning ritual unfolds around the kitchen table. V is one day older, plucky and calm. N’s face is a quiet ocean at that lost moment when the tide is neither going in or out. My hands do not look so old, curled around the cup and those last few sips. I still recognize them.
flesh and bone (the kitchen table)
flesh and bone (the kitchen table)
flesh and bone (the kitchen table)
A cup of coffee is growing cold. The morning ritual unfolds around the kitchen table. V is one day older, plucky and calm. N’s face is a quiet ocean at that lost moment when the tide is neither going in or out. My hands do not look so old, curled around the cup and those last few sips. I still recognize them.