hopping rippled ponds

The faults I find in our shaky grammar
and the dust I’ve wiped from a broken desk.

The real that I can’t live without.

Water pouring, helicopters dive
into thickets of eager trees.

A recklessness everyone speaks of.

And Isabelle is leaving
as we calculate the fleeing possibilities
of a two week vacation
from questions
and displeasure.

We’ll buy her a Swarovski swan.

Pitching in more dollars.
Wrapping goodbyes in premium bubble wrap.

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2 thoughts on “hopping rippled ponds

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