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Showing posts from October, 2017

Flash poetry: Death and Taxes

Nothing Is As Certain As Death: like applesauce, both solid and liquid, an unlabeled jam jar, a bagpipe, deflated; an iris closed before dawn. Taxes: struggling to spell your own name, a broken power cord, a father's wheezing snore; when you wake up late on garbage day, and run to the curb in your bathrobe and slippers.