2024 – Porridge

ONE POEM – Emily Tee

and there, by the weekend-quiet school, at the edge of the pavement, was the mouse
lying on its side, a small trickle of blood / from its open mouth

You offer me tea (a cardigan, story)
and someone else to make it,
which we all
pretend not to notice.

The plane goes to the gym every morning
before work and holds that plank.

Fried dough dishes are a universal constant.