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Crisp Green, Leatherbound
Saltwater stasis of Arctic glacial
ice, frozen and morose, lifts
morning, pushing it to rejection,
to get out of bed and it becomes
the underside of ten workboots thumping
away in a quarry, turning cliffs into granite
chunks of kettle corn
with the flip of a switch and the
energy of an explosion.
The whistler’s signal changes shifts and
it’s now the dark space under
a mansion’s kitchen sink
where the dish soap has festered, crusted,
lost its color – and more importantly -
its scent of Paradise Gardens lost, too.
Soon a child will accidentally ingest it
because it doesn’t smell, taste, or act
Before they pump her three-year-old stomach
(for the first time but not the last) she will taste
the funk of waking up after drinking far too much
feeling the weight of gravity will force
her knees to give way
and the whole thing starts over,
fingernails following grooves on a golden record
exploring the music of empty
hurtling through space
on the side of Voyager I.
#Unreal #Poetry #Photography #Circular #Evolving #Life #Lessons #Habits #HumanCondition
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