Seven-OH-Five

Day 2 of the November PAD challenge. Prompt: a "not ready" poem.


seven o five and OH the
minutes tick down, and dear,
this stocking is already laddered (where IS
another?) and there the
kettle blowing her top, steaming
away as if she would power the
whole house and
dammit where are my keys, so
sure I left them on the hook
by the door,
tick, tick, tick echoing back,
the click, click, click of
hasty shoes upon the boards (too
late, now, to worry about the
noise) snatching at purse-
strap then
dash-dark-down the stairwell,
ready as she'll ever be
(resolving, always, to be better:
that graceful, unhurried woman espied from afar)