Although you know it has a minor crack and I am
reminded of the fable of the woman in the house
who could not comprehend how hard she worked and how
she never really got anywhere, not anywhere at all.
Carting dumping carting dumping carting
all her worries, all her thoughts from one cupped
history fist to those of her daughters and sons. And
the fish they caught? Not so many. Slippery the
cement. Though they trawled the edges of the pond.
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