Leftovers
Spaghetti-stained and bottom-scratched
my tupperware and I.
Our lids don’t fit quite right,
our insides deflated, cold,
and somewhat clammy,
the fresh and heat
since dissipated into steam
that long ago went floating out
to somewhere we cannot seem
to find. Spin us around
to nuke our atoms from
the inside working out
and we will warm,
but do not be surprised
when something, still,
is never quite the way it was
the time the cook first set us on the table.
Bionote
L.R. Harvey writes and teaches in Chattanooga, T.N. A graduate of Covenant College, he holds his BA in English and his MA in teaching, and currently teaches high school English. His most recent work has appeared in Red Eft Review, Better Than Starbucks, The Write Launch, Light: A Journal of Photography and Poetry, The Road Not Taken, and more than a dozen others. He writes to provide a window into the Transcendent and a glimpse into the Mystery.
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