They are sliced and chopped and later
diced and ground down until all the
moisture is gone and this within the
space sometimes of a single day.

Sometimes you’ll pull your shoes on
and say I really cannot do this.
I should return to paint or sculpt or
more time with kids until you dismiss

such thoughts. For you deal with a
very fine powder now, not unlike dust,
easily scattered by the do-do-do
every-days of the chattering numb.

Oh, you can’t be too emotional, they
say; you know they are twice wrong but
you watch them slip their shoes on and
step over and past just as you, just.

 

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Poet’s Notes:

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