The Brook

The brook was especially quiet this morning

The morning, however, was especially noisy

Noisy due to all the clunking in the kitchen and in the brain.

Yes, the brain matched the drumming of the kitchen

Kitchen, always busy in the mornings, and in the evenings 

Evenings provided no solace for her soul

Soul craved the quiet for which the brain thirsted

Thirst could only be quenched by vodka, on the rocks or up

Up was how she felt the ripples of alcohol expand from her burning throat to her mind

Her mind felt no quiet or comfort

Comfort could and would not be provided by alcohol 

Alcohol was the devil

The devil was in that clunking in the kitchen

Kitchen was the source of all her pain

Pain, deep pain, from the burns she sustained to her body and soul that left her unable to cook.

Cooking was her first love

Love that could no longer be sustained because of the damn pain

Pain that led her to drink

The drink now was vodka, but it used to be tea

Tea used to soothe and comfort her, and that used to be enough

Enough was not a part of her lexicon these days

These days, there was never enough pain or vodka

Vodka didn't soothe, but it drowned out the noise in the kitchen

The kitchen looked out on the quiet brook.

Location: Philadelphia

Date: September 2024