Fred Aiken Writing

Tag: fiction

January 29, 2025

spilt tea that you can’t see

i spilled tea on this poem, 
	so it’s kinda difficult to read,
	but i guess you’re not really experiencing it the same way,
since i typed it up all neat and polished—
	some-what—
to post it, leave it, here on this interweb—
	of-sorts—
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January 15, 2025

don’t bring it up in the first place

there’s a burn scar on my hand
that’s supposed to signify something
perhaps something that happened long ago
and i’m just not in the right headspace to talk about it right now
so maybe it’s best if we just drop the subject right now
and yes
i understand that i was the one that brought it up to begin with
but also
sometimes i can’t help but solicit attention for the scars
from childhood that seem to never go away
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December 19, 2024

melatonin

melo-mela-moanin’-ownin’-tone-deaf
scorched marks running
down my ear canal
as the medication bursts on through
down through the gullet
take a right at the kidney
then maybe greet the gallbladder 
until one-two	stop	brake
to smell the roses
artificial roses—but what’s the dif
just sniff	though not too deeply
while the mind falls adrift
the body will become all stiff
and the melatonin will reach its climax
only to be awoken
	next morning
	next moanin
	next all too awake	at the crack	of dawn
too damn long to be late-late-late
back to work
it’s not too bad
just don’t call in sick
so you can save up quick
and later kick up your feet
to the sweet—sweet—sweet ole symphony
of sleep to the eternal beat
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