A Grocery List

The list spills over, ink bled and blurred,

can’t tell if I need flour or something unheard.

Cans of tomatoes, milk, an egg or two,

like a fragment of me that I’ve lost in the stew.

Red sauce dripped on paper, now a mottled face,

everything intertwined in a messy embrace.

I stare at the jumbles, the crumpled regret,

these scribbled reminders of hunger unmet.