Slimy soap and scraps
and bits of waste
slip down my kitchen drain –
properly shredded, mangled,
ground beyond recognition
by the garbage disposal,
forgotten and left to congeal
into a singular pulpy mass
in plastic pipes beneath my sink
where, willfully reassembling,
it assumes sentience –
surviving on dinner scraps
and fresh running water;
squealing when I drain
hot noodles, groaning
when I run the grinder,
and I wonder each time
I force my hand across
the sink to the faucet –
when will it reach up,
grab my arm and yank
me down below, pausing
only to switch on the disposal
as my fingers enter the drain?
(This poem first appeared in ParABnormal Digest, September 2011.)
Lauren McBride finds inspiration in faith, family, nature, science and membership in the Science Fiction & Fantasy Poetry Association (SFPA). Nominated for the Best of the Net, Rhysling and Dwarf Stars Awards, her poetry has appeared in dozens of publications including Dreams & Nightmares, Kaleidotrope, and Silver Blade. She enjoys swimming, gardening, baking, reading, writing and knitting scarves for troops.
Published 10/31/18