the moving finger wrote,
needles in camels eyes and something.
then there is that straw, and sod’s law,
which is something else entirely, like
money for old rope, which could tether
humped, and lumpy kneed moves on,
in other places,
they broke things,
and were put assunder.
imagining vases, that could be stuck,
we wandered wearily, until
the birds stopped singing.
yes, even in mexico.
2 thoughts on “straws by Sonja Benskin Mesher”
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Published in The Curly Mind