Bad Pennies…

Writing is a messy feast

where crumbs fall to the floor

to congregate and aggregate

to hide and form and spore

 

Left alone and thrown away

these remnants take new life

invading what you fear the most

on dark and stormy nights

 

They creep inside your cleanest lines

to weaken and distract

what memory long has cast aside

now rising from the cracks

 

And latching on while holding tight

they make you speak their name

those orphaned crumbs your table cleared

—in sweeping lost disdain

 

(Dreamsleep: October, 2021)

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