Fridge drones, heating moans
Breaths of bills paid with plans made
Door’s locked, exhale still.
How does it work?
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More stories from Claire McCabe and writers in Poets and other communities.
A breath exhaled in stillness, This conductor pauses morning's song, To roses stringed in dew gemmed bonnets, Cobwebs chimed in crystalled throngs.
By Claire McCabe5 months ago in Poets
~ if this is the only one I get (and it seems likely it is) I have no idea what to do with it anymore, started off with god and woman
By Heather Hubler3 days ago in Poets
I am concerned about time. Not in an abstract way, and not as a philosophical question. I am concerned about how it is passing in my own life and how I am using it.
By Alain SUPPINI6 days ago in Poets
Ah, the irony of flying at this moment in time as the United States is simultaneously bombing Iran - the nation officials have insisted for decades is "The World's Greatest Terror Regime" - while the TSA is on a go-slow, courtesy of a funding squeeze that's left its officers unpaid, quitting in droves, and turning checkpoints into something like slow-moving bread lines.
By Scott Christenson🌴7 days ago in Humor
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