After the holidays

After the holidays
by Emma Bean
leaky creativity orifices
stopped up by turkey fat
and deep fried learning by
rote. fractured brain cells
halfway across a country
and then the other halfway
across too. split to dream
about digging a hole to China
and in the backyard to spill
some sunflower seeds
who would bend and sway
at the sun’s friendly gaze
longingly they sigh, that
every day might be a day
such as this, with the sun
and the center of the universe
all in one place. eyelids shudder
open to rain drenched moss
and the din of electrical
appliances, paved streets
lined with death: pine, fir
and spruce. in the puddles.
they lay.

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