The drawer has emptied over time
one-thirds cleared as if to comply
with an absence that demands doom
this lack of spoons in present time
those holders of passions pressed
into realms of thriving health
growth beyond the wounded state
is then paused by lack of ready grace

there’s left behind the substitutes
each with a cold purpose set
neither an equal on their own
perhaps together life will resolve
easily fitting into a palm
poor replacement for what’s been lost
the fates continue nonetheless
even if spoons are not at hand

the first demands useful works
that poke and lift of the fork
utility of a long workday
is manifest by implement
crafting worlds without a soul
absent thought of questing hope
this allows the days to unwind
even as the will slowly die

the second cuts with an edge honed
removing meat from the bone
a knife’s edge would cease the pain
at the price of future days
separation that seems to heal
when pain is dropped from the deceased
now lack of spoons has bequeathed
that work combines with edged leave.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190907.