The Morning You Threw Wet Socks as We Argued Over Bagels
Chris Campbell
​
I pick up a wet sock from the foot
of our front door, wide open.
​
The morning’s bagel still hangs
in the air, brings sweetness
​
to a sour room. I swear in thick summer
breath—angry words reverberating
​
around the room. Cat scratches at cardboard.
Not now. My hair aches; I pick
​
up another damp sock. Then
I’m supposed to close the door forever.
​
Just the smell of a bagel to remember
all the times we danced.
Chris Campbell (he/him) is a former journalist living in Bristol, UK. His latest collection, White Eye of the Needle, is published through The Choir Press. Chris recently won Portico Library’s Poetry Prize and his poems have appeared or are forthcoming in Dreich, Green Ink Poetry, The Dawntreader, and Lothlorien Poetry Journal. He’s on Twitter @Citizen_Chris, and Instagram @bychriscampbell. He can also be found at www.chriscampbellpoetry.co.uk.