Vinegar By Degrees

my dad is at war

 

each night he marks

his territory in vinegar

 

each morning he curses

at the ant battalions

marching in disarray

 

across the plains of kitchen bench

finding crumbs in unlikely places

 

drowning in squealing discontent

in tiny drops of water left behind

from midnight thirst sessions

 

sometimes adaptation occurs in a blink

of darwin’s vinegar-tinted eye

 

 

Copyright February 2018

 

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