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May 2017
I spent months
setting them up

those emotional "dominoes"

black rectangles on end
balanced just so
white spots spelling out

ego
    emotions
                soul

just a sharp stroke
of a tongue
on one corner
and
they fall...
   and fall...
      and fall...

they lay
      scattered
                  and
                     chaotic

on their backs
          like beetles
unable to turn

their undersides exposed
                             and vulnerable

how many times
            can they be realigned

how many times
              before the spots erode

how many times
               before it's empty inside

like dead beetles'
                       dry, brittle shells?
An older poem I came across.
Mary-Eliz
Written by
Mary-Eliz  Virginia
(Virginia)   
2.1k
       Mary Winslow, Styles 12, ---, kim, Lora Lee and 8 others
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