One Brilliant Poem by G J. Hart

 

Washing Up

 

Slippered and early

at the sink when the rock

is spotted at the distant

end of the universe - less

than millimeter thick -

outside, the garden

plucked

 

with snow, quietness

drifts like a river

bed - I slide

glasses through

the dense, steaming

water, feeling their perfect

weight - the rock exclaims

soundlessly, listening

or not.

 

I remember dreams

filled with nothing

unfamiliar - a visit

to the shops covered

in cat hairs and yesterday's

take away - you

on the sofa

reaching for your phone -

 

reflections always - yale

dusks in windows, fog

lights floating

over snow, preening

in the loneliness

of it -

 

a sudden and fleeting eternity,

every eagle blinks, the rock

is gone. I hang the tea towel

over the cupboard door.

GJ Hart currently lives and works in London and has had work published in Isacoustic, Nine Muses Poetry, The Molotov Cocktail, The Jersey Devil Press, The Harpoon Review and others. He can be found arguing with himself over @gj_hart.