Saturday 24 June 2023

'Little Spoon' by Tara Campbell

Little Spoon

but behind you, attached to your back like limpet to rock, nose warming on skin, squeezing cold fingers away into fists, still freezing because it seemed so important to read one more story or write one more page, but again the little spoon failed into doomscrolling, failed and failed to lessen the misery of the world—if only it weren’t, if someone could only, I wish they would—once again failing to write one more page or save anyone while her feet went cold, until little spoon was only resisting was the tedium of toothpaste and floss, and at last she caved, gave up on the time pissed away on her phone, lifted (for a moment) the weight of it all with the warm cotton sheet, tucked tired ambitions away into bed, slid in next to you, sprawling her hand in your hair, sleepily grunting, little spoon sighing, spooning the big spoon, spooning the world.

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