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| MARY'S MORNING
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She wakes up, and dreams
slip away through finger nets
like strands of seaweed floating
out out
on the tide
She turns to the weight
of the clock
which metronomes
its schedules, and her heartbeat bends
like the first fresh growth
of ivy,
burdened by a load
of heavy frost.
Down to the kitchen
Is there any fresh coffee?
Relaxes a little
into a chair, at the table
something to read, music on,
for just a moment
just one minute more always
on the edge of leaping
springing into
Got to make the kids' lunch
Where's my work apron
Have to defrost the bread
Get the kids' clothes from the dryer
Put their socks on
Am I forgetting something
Fill in school forms get knapsacks put books in
Onto school bus
Brush my hair
Off to
work
never ends. And
out of this emerges,
as from the long lean shoots
of twenty-year bamboo,
her rare flower,
slow to open
but deep the roots.
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from The Wind is a Tall Man Striding
watershedBooks
2000
Copyright © Jim Slominski |
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