Poem: November 12, 2019

November 12, 2019

Today isn't exactly the type of day
that one might choose to immortalize,
as messy as it's been, with the leather-
booted plumbers traipsing in trails
of ice and dead leaves (the products
of this rare November snow day)
back and forth for hours between
their work truck and the basement
office where the old galvanized pipe
finally wore too thin and dumped its
black sludge over ceiling tiles and
desk, carpet and scrapbooks, and
some things will clean up and some
won't ever be right, but we have
chili bubbling on the stove and hours
of new television to stream, and the
laundry is all folded and all of the
homework is complete, and unranked
UE just toppled top-ranked Kentucky,
so my phone has been lighting up
with texts from friends all across the
country, on a night with record-low
temperatures and extra blankets on
the bed, and I like it because it is
human and true and ours to share.