Poem -
A Thing In A Thing
A bale of hay trussed in a bunch
like yellow parcels of plump twigs
sleeping in a meadow
where the moonlight has no cancer
and the morning dew
never blind
bending blades
of grass
into pigtails
bedazzled-
in wet
gems
evaporating
as you pass
staring at your damn phone
Ā
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Comments
Deep! The last line gives this poem a powerful punch x