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by Leah Wingate |
| New Mexico How does it feel To be new, To have a clean slate? How does one Begin to forget? To move on Cheery postcards mark Your assent up The sand dunes "Miss ya gal write back soon." Since when did you Call me gal? Must be that new you Making those words Strut across the page A preening parade Of carefule casualty Do I know you? No. Cimarron, New Mexico The return address Glares up at me As I gently Place you in the Trash can. A Doll's Life I'm a shiny porcelian sculpture On display at your side My sleek glass body is A beauty to behold Compliments are thrown Continuously at you "What impeccable taste you have" They say People can't communicate to objects I am yours to hold And one day you drop me. A tiny hairline crack Appears on my side You are aghast at the havoc You have wreaked and Quickly smooth me over With super-glue. "No one will notice" You assure me. I take your word Until next week, through Some carelessness you Drop me again And my one crack Splits into thousands Of tiny fissures. More super glue "No one will see No one will see" You say But this time they do My soul quivers each Time we walk in public And I am counting. The days until You will be too Careless the day My fragile body Will shatter such Shards of broken Glass that people Will have to tip-toe Around me and be Careful where they step. |
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