where the writers are

Behold that old sink in a small enterprise, hardly
a centerpiece effort, but still taking up space in a
corner of the warehouse.

A wire soap dish hangs from the faucet and a ragged
gray towel has its place dangling from a rusty rack at
the sink’s side, and the faucet drips.

Do we talk about the faucet presenting itself as a
still-life scene, or the drip or just the sink—as its own story?
I say all—for a time.

You first, Sink, what gives you your life?
Why do you exist? Why haven’t you been
yanked out or replaced?

Never mind. This is all of a piece, more a statement
of vitality lost, history with brown edges, business
sapped of juice from lost care.

Besides, it’s that indomitable drip that really claims my attention.
It’s a messenger, each, one-by-one then it’s off to new life.


From Allan Cox’s collection, “The Middle of Time.”
Copyright © 2009. All rights reserved.

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An old sink....

It's been a long time since I met a man who got this intrigued by a sink--and an old one at that....

You managed to bring life even to something as mandane and discarded and see it for art.



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"Old Sink"

Talia, many thanks for your comments on this mundane subject! I'm new to Red Room and feeling my way. I've not made requests of anyone to be my friend (if that's the terminology here) but I'll go to your profile and ask it of you, if that's OK.

All the best,