she was like the tiny, little
broken, china teacup
that i would use to dip sugar
from out of the big jar
that i kept in the fridge
she was there,
all covered in sticky sweetness…
chipped, jagged
cold
and poised
to cut the lip
©2026 Kevin Trent Boswell
From the book on the page – poems for artists, writers, and other hooligans
Author: Kevin Trent Boswell
Kevin Trent Boswell is a thing that once blinked briefly in and out of existence. It made noises and gestures while it lasted. The exact nature of its demise is unclear. Some sources say it collapsed beneath the weight of entropy and time. Other tertiary evidence suggests the possibility that it was destroyed by a predator, an accident, or perhaps even by itself. The truth of the matter is unknown. Luckily, no one cares.
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