There's water circles on the side table

even though it isn’t made of wood
and I wonder how the water seeps into the metal
and rusts it circular
every night.

Wait for it to evaporate, but
it doesn’t.
Instead it stains:
It’s red.
It’s orange.
It’s the color of my blood after a winter nose bleed.

7/18/2020

PoetryRiley Welch