The Impatience of Some Ordinary Things

By Rhea Chauhan

It is a kind of a hurry, is it not?

How a chair dragged across the room stubs a toe

In its urgency to make its way across

Or how some clothes fade after a few washes

Losing no time to disappear

Or how potatoes scramble away

When upturned into a basket from a shopping bag

Chairs creak, threatening to drop you

Or how cupboards invite a family of termites

Ready to retire from a lifetime of holding your clothes

Or how pots explode

Unwilling to contain expanding roots

All in a bid to rush the inevitable

And what is more in a hurry than an elastic band

that whizzes past you?

By Rhea Chauhan