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


barefoot kicking

to the smoky blues of the beat domestics.

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