A ring of six women sit laughing togetherto stave off exhaustion in the conference room.
Kettle of fish. Barrel of monkeys.
We carry in our blue lunch pails the tales
of the cross over from home into work life
and vice versa.
My daughter has lost her voice but she rises
every morning at 7:16 to dress again.
I dream a murky river. Not cold at dawn when I dash in.
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