Let my love open the door

Vacuuming up sand makes a lovely sound. I'm always tempted to suck up the sand underneath the surfboard display at my job, which we'll refer to as the Surf Shop of Silence.

Yesterday was Tolstoy Tuesday, so here's my poem, submitted late but barely.

“Ode to Yellow Split Pea Soup”

On this floured afternoon,
the soup Provisions provided
soaks my cells with warm salt
and those green floaty things
which resemble basil but taste like thyme.
Sunny and textured, you baby waste, you,
I dip my bread and try to resist
tipping my paper cupped bowl
and getting on with it.