Soup of the Day

 

Time is a wave
It feels itself and whippets outwards
I think it tries to eat its own tail
But its mouth is too far away, busy,
With consuming another variant of its head
Minute movements upon the clock
The jar of fireflies has died
And the glass is broken
But I know it is the same:
Today is Wednesday
The fridge is running
There are leftovers from Monday in there,
And there are leftovers from Tuesday.
Chicken curry and broccoli in a tupperware
And also: stuffed tomatoes and vegetables in another container
How are they here?
The Curry was made Monday
The Tomatoes, from Tuesday
Why are they still here?
It is Wednesday now.
They should have been eaten already, or,
Disappeared altogether
Leaving behind a dirty plastic container
I will need to wash after lunch.