Cindy Veach
Two Poems
To Do’s
How can you know what you’ll do
when the world is ending?
Today, I will change
the shower curtain liner.
The mold has multiplied,
its brown whorls transformed
into a strange topographical map
of a distant planet
where water has been discovered
and suddenly news outlets
around the world are reporting
that aliens probably do exist.
I’ll Take a Little Hope in My Tea
There’s a coffee table on the curb
with a sign that says: Free.
There’s an older couple, out walking,
looking it over, discussing.
Six feet long, solid wood.
She takes the back. He takes the front.
They lug it slowly, stopping
every few feet to set it down, rest.
They encourage each other.
Stop. Rest. Walk.
It looks so heavy.
She’s in the back. He’s in the front.
They turn the corner.
Stop. Rest. Walk.
Perhaps it’s for one of their adult children
or themselves—a place to put their feet up,
set their morning coffee down.
Whatever the reason
it means they’re looking forward to tomorrow.
That there will be a tomorrow.
Which is like a smidgeon of hope in my tea.
—Submitted on 07/31/2020
Cindy Veach is the author of Her Kind (CavanKerry Press, forthcoming), Gloved Against Blood (CavanKerry Press, 2017), and Innocents (Nixes Mate, 2020). Her poems have appeared in AGNI, Prairie Schooner, Poet Lore, Michigan Quarterly Review, Diode and other journals. Cindy is co-poetry editor of Mom Egg Review. Online at cindyveach.com.
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