Poem: Shadow

I sit in a diner
and worry

about what to do
with the spoon
after stirring milk
into my coffee

and whether or not
I’ll end up
in a bigger house
than my father’s

I’m not sure
which is more important

I don’t even know
if I want kids

but I do know
I want a second cup
to wash down
these bacon and eggs

and the spoon keeps falling
off the saucer
and bleeding
through the napkin.

This article appears in January 2018.