{an end}

{an end}

A Poem by Extant
"

~

"

It is snowing - the way grated, bitter tufts of lemon peel

aggregate on a chipped plate -

against the windswept evergreens - which could be

meticulously stitched bonsais on a luxurious kimono -

under their branches the young scuttle - do they wonder

about neural plaques or the cost of an egg, do they marvel

at microscopy or forget to write their names, do they fear

that Alois will knock on their door, their mother’s door,

their mother’s mother’s name . . .

© 2018 Extant


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Added on December 14, 2018
Last Updated on December 14, 2018

Author

Extant
Extant

IA



About
Raise your words, not voice. It is rain that grows flowers not thunder. ~ Rumi Jalal ad-Din No one had ever become poor by giving. ~ Anne Frank Don't learn to do, but learn in doing. ~ Samuel B.. more..

Writing
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A Poem by Extant


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A Poem by Extant