Pain is a demanding guest
at the table
hamfisted
grabbing
all the attention
like buns steaming
hot from the oven
the crumbs
of intentions
cling
to the
corners
of the nine
minute
napkins
our grandmother's
mother
made
on
slow
Saturday
afternoons
to pass the time
Somehow
we
make
our way
through
it
all
those
Mitered
corner
memories
locked in
a creaking cedar
hope-filled
chest
folded
and
forgotten
October Poetry Writing Month 2020
Day 19 of 31
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