poetry is a blind
sport
exposing big truths
behind
the sneeze-stain tile and the silver fish corners
you
were only writing mundane day honesty
about
the good
sandwiches
and
heavy
toilet
visits
just a record of the day to keep the box sane
when
you realise joy is in the maintenance
and the rush
and the urgency
fade
and you are filled up with simple MOMENT
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