Earthen Vessel

A cup overflowing with me and my humble personal poetry.
Cracked and broken, I'm remade on the wheel of time and change.

Monday, September 27, 2004

Toast

Toast browns
while I wait with butter

"Sit down"
Slow speech with half smiles makes
My heart pound with
needles and doctors
    She's sick
The door shuts and I'm alone

while toast, nearly burned,
waits with butter.




Written in 1998

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