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This entry is part 4 of 19 in the series Morning Porch Poems: Spring 2015

I never checked the boxes.
Or I checked them all.

*

Mountain and valley fold.
The creases deep and sharp as blades.

*

I am all my names. And something more.
Perhaps that’s what is meant by Becoming.

*

The sales clerk said, helpfully: Sometimes
the size is different depending on the maker.

*

The lizard sheds the tail
that has been caught in the closing door.

 

In response to an entry from the Morning Porch.

Series Navigation← If poetry is the shadowRunic →

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