Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Tuesday, March 22, 2022

Sonnet #344

 We grow, even as we think we shrivel,

Where our bones decline, our backs sink

Our joints ache and stiffen, we drink

too much, now, and sit and swivel

in our office chairs, and wash our mugs

quietly in the office sink, and we think

that we are done growing, just faded ink

worn out days and prescription drugs

And we are still growing, watch your nails 

twist, and watch your hair extending out

and listen to the words that all fail

how they blow into the corners, shout

quietly where they can be most frail

And leave their tendrils in the must and grout

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