Spoon by Ciree
I forgot where I put the spoon
Talking to myself about grief
Or that unfinished, unopened book.
Since when did my memories
Become a metal spoon: short, cold,
Taken for granted, scattered.
I walked back and traced my steps:
Things are pointing to specifics,
A system of causes and effects.
Wandering, wishing for a stopped clock
Or a rising sun at 6 pm in the kitchen.
“I wrote this poem months ago. It is one of those poems that I feel like the ending is abrupt. So abrupt that the entire poem becomes not coherent enough to form a cohesive thought.”
Ciree is a poet based in the Philippines. His writing has appeared in the third issue of The Skrew Syndication, the Backwards Trajectory, and in the upcoming Autumn anthology of Sunday Mornings at the River.