NPM 2024: Day 10

Today I'd like to share a Jim Daniels poem that has been open on my desktop for a long while. (That's what I'm doing this NPM: spring-cleaning the open tabs on my desktop. You wouldn't even believe me if I told you how many there are.) 

Jim Daniels poems are often about one ordinary moment that has deeper resonance. In this 2019 NPM post I shared a couple of his pieces. This one, like both of those, introduces the situation in its title:

Brushing Teeth with My Sister after the Wake

By Jim Daniels

 

 

at my kitchen sink, the bathroom upstairs

clogged with family from out of town

spending the night after the wake

and the after—wake—cold beverages

have been consumed and comfort food,

leftovers bulging both the fridge

and the mini-fridge. In our fifties, both

half-asleep half-awake, we face each

other.

 

Here's the rest. 

 

I'd like to borrow a line from this poem to write about, and here it is:

"We may never brush our teeth together again."

 

"We may never ________________ together again."

 

 

Today Linda is adding her line to the Progressive Poem.