begin the day with a calculated loss /
then dig your hole, piling overturned earth in a mound /
on the one-way street /
that’s the hope /
the luck sometimes squeezed out of accidents /
maybe a dandelion by week’s end /
or fresh organs for deserving folk /
the least visible absences are the ones usually stepped in /
up to an ankle in the chest where the blood pump was /
or a children’s book about cremation /
highlighting the snap, crackle, pop of a withering end /
those holes in the earth /
have the indent of a smile /
chuckling at something we’ve done /
and are still doing /
thinking nothing of time /
that thing we created that /
always comes back to haunt /
boo who?
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