between barcode and biscuit tin
they fiddle threads of faint recall —
small hands, unseen, unhurried—
with no need for thanks nor footnotes.
labels don’t just print; they remember.
the reds fade slower when touched
by whispering elvish dust.
they work behind the stacked cans,
among whispering expiration dates
and sideways glances
from lentils who know too much.
there’s no union for elves
who file silence into adjectives.
no wage for making “reduced sodium”
feel like a lullaby.
only the hum, slight and sure,
like the fridge making poetry
from motor breath.
.
they fiddle threads of faint recall —
small hands, unseen, unhurried—
with no need for thanks nor footnotes.
labels don’t just print; they remember.
the reds fade slower when touched
by whispering elvish dust.
they work behind the stacked cans,
among whispering expiration dates
and sideways glances
from lentils who know too much.
there’s no union for elves
who file silence into adjectives.
no wage for making “reduced sodium”
feel like a lullaby.
only the hum, slight and sure,
like the fridge making poetry
from motor breath.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 16th, 2025 06:13
- Comment from author about the poem: ...accompanies the hermit goes shopping poem.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 2
Offline)
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