Pantea Karimi    © 2017 All Rights Reserved

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She is a soap-stiff washcloth:
dried to imperfection. Ignore
the soft, crumbling noises
she lets out as she returns
to her original state
itís just the sound
of loss
of sense
of self.

The other one is an empty bottle
that once held a seven dollar juice.

She sits silently but makes
her presence felt in the house.

The third smells complex:
like honeysuckle
like honeydew
like honey.
She is intriguing but ultimately
untouchable; ultimately impossible;
impossibly, untouchably ultimate and infinite.

And I am the last;
And I am made of dust and ants;
And I am everywhere.
 

 

Heather Ash
Copyright © 2017  

Heather Ash is a poet living in Richmond, VA with her partner and cat. Zie can be found on Gumroad /heatherash and Twitter @sylviablech.


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