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Consumer
by David HillPenelope,
a charming name,
a silly woman.
In the break room,
I wait my turn.
Penelope
rinses her tea cup
in a white torrent.
She rinses and rinses and rinses…
and I feel a tension mounting…
and she rinses and rinses and rinses…
and I want to reach across…
and she rinses and rinses and rinses,
until finally,
Penelope steps aside
and I,
I strike that spigot like a viper.
Eyebrows arched,
“An environmentalist, pray tell?”
A small thing,
perhaps.
But I tell you truly,
sweet Penny,
this thing,
this thing will tear it down.
04/09/2009 Author's Note: hey, but I paid for it
Posted on 04/10/2009
Copyright © 2025 David Hill
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 04/10/09 at 03:21 PM I like this very much - the tension you build, the endless rinsing (something about water going down the drain unnecessarily that epitomizes all waste, I think), and that "strike" of the viper, an effective in-your-face tool. You know I have to ask if this was an actual event?? Also love the name Penelope. |
| Posted by Gabriel Ricard on 04/10/09 at 07:57 PM I love the way this thing builds. It hits the right tone straight-on and just moves effortlessly into that really nicely done final stanza. Awesome write. |
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