TISK

Tisk, tisk chatters the radio by my bed

Tisk, tisk scolds the voice inside my head

I press the iron down onto the wrinkled linen

And steam sputters forth and gurgles like a child

Tisk, tisk

And so another morning starts anew

The leaves lifting in dawn’s wind

Their underbellies a soft sage green

The medicine cabinet creaks open, squealing its outraged

Tisk, tisk

The engine turns and I veer right from the driveway

Nose bent north

Tisk, tisk whisper the tires

Tisk, tisk sigh each passerby

The sun beats down on the windshield

Tisking, tisking

The miles spread out before me