Thursday, April 3, 2014

This Poem

"Which recounts what will soon be seen."

A fine web ghosts
Me as I bend
Down to retrieve
A dropped object.

Ugh. What was I
Trying to find?
I've lost my mind.
I rub my eye

Where the cobweb,
Too fine to see,
Itches again.
There. Gone. No. Close.

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