Thursday, April 1, 2021


This life was born to the odd
Art of auto-disruption,

Of the abrupt irruption
Of minor catastrophes

Into ordinary days,
Stumbles into disarray,

Slips that lead to hospitals
All small plans skidding away.

Sunny morning’s walk to work
Took a turn for surgery;

Quick trip to take out the trash,
Month of wheelchaired therapy;

Taking a seat on a green
Afternoon to ache for months.

Not everyone needs to be
Told the world is perilous

Even when it’s showing off
Its calmest, prettiest hours.

One lives through turns for the worse
In hopes of the one reverse.

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