Late Night Poetry #28: Tiny Nightmares

I wrote this poem last month as a response to a series of prompts by The Constant Poet, Michelle Awad, on Instagram, October Poetry Prompts. I thought about the kind of things that are small but sometimes disturb a day, then wondered what would happen if there were a series of things that just kept going wrong. They are silly, and honestly not the worst thing ever, but they could definitely throw off the smooth running of a day!

Tiny Nightmares

The special oat milk has run out,
and the online shop is refusing to load—
the morning tea that begins the day
sits stewing stronger and is poured away—

Someone knocks on the front door—
unexpected—and you are still undressed,
still wearing your morning face, creased
skin, sleepies crusting your eyes—

You are forced to hide, made a coward,
let your phone vibrate with texts: ‘are
you in? I was in the area…’—as you wonder
if the universe is being trickier than usual—

The dryer makes a terrible noise, a grinding screech: 
so the four loads of wet clothes pile in baskets
—as the sky opens and thunder cracks—
and you think, perhaps, you should go back to bed.

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