Snap-Time Routines

Kat Leonard-Peck

 

Snap-time routines

cool jazz with the key ring

baby on one hip and groceries swinging

crashed to the floor as the bag slips wide.

Not my bag, baby. Cool the jazz.

Milk is a mirror.

 

Mama is dancing, mama’s on the snap

grooving through the kitchen with a bottle to warm

pot roast in the oven, and gin in hand.

Where’s daddy-o? His girl is waiting

apron-slick

barefoot kicking

to the smoky blues of the beat domestics.

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