This poem is published in Cabinet of Heed:Issue 5
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Night:
Transmission trembles
Little brother’s voice crackles
Over Oceans
His wife
Hemoglobin’s heaving
Each hour is critical
On my dresser
Two succulents
The hardiest of plants
Nestled in a vase
Left one looks limp
I make it lean
Against the upright right
Place them
Under my bedside lamp
In the light of which
I read and read and read
Gets tiring
But the bookmark doesn’t budge
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Morning:
She’s still slumping
I break a bamboo skewer
Plant it in the vase
Tie it to the tremulous one
With a black thread
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Evening:
Away from the skewer
Broken at a right angle
She lies listless
I gently pluck it out
Wipe off the soil
From its roots
Lay it on a paper towel
Sluiced
Not by water from the faucet