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Liz Durrett
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Cup on the Counter
The cup on the counter leaves a circular stain
The rut from the tire is deep in the clay
The flat of the grass where a body was laid
The contents of pockets all strewn on a table
Why try to lie to me
I'm not a child I know what I've seen
Why try to lie to me
I'm not a child I know what I've seen
The fray of the fabric, the edge of the chair
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The hard to reach places, the things you put there
Ashes on cinders long after the flames
The rain on the road leaves a beautiful haze
Why try to lie to me
I'm not a child I know what I've seen
Why try to lie to me
I'm not a child I know what I've seen
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