Poemetry by T.A. Barnhart


my upstairs neighbors
woke me at 5:30 am
by running their washing machine,
which is right over my room.
as i lay in bed,
awake ninety minutes early,
i thought of what i should do.
summoning a demon
to slaughter them all
seemed the most reasonable response
to their thoughtlessness;
but, not being a reasonable person,
i instead chose impotent resentment;
and then, bored with that,
i got up and began my day
far earlier than i had planned the night before.
i’m pleased at how little anger
i am carrying over this.
the tea helps,
as does the Vivaldi,
but, still,
if screams of terror and pain
were to come from the apartment above
along with a waft of brimstone,
i can’t say it wouldn’t make me smile
just a bit.

©TA Barnhart January 11, 2022