The Pen and The Bottle

I stole it, and the pen, and not even in the dead of night. 

It was early morning - I was working on thank you letters

Dear you thanks for the blah hope to see you soon love maeve

I took it like I have taken everything else

In broad daylight

Under the nose of the owner

This time that nose was sharp

It’s lucky I inherited it

And I got away with the tiny bottle

But that was years and years of dipping before today

And the pen is beautiful, bronze where my fingers have rested

The nib slightly bent I admit

Much nicer than the bottle, the red ink

That dries brown.

And the stickers that once covered it

Now crusted over with my accidents

The times I spilled it over my sheets

And – yes – when my mother came to change

My sheets she saw the red brown

And she thought I had hurt myself

I – am sorry I did not correct her.

And the smooth bottom of the glass feels

Like the hollow of my little sister’s ear

But dirtier – and younger.