As I arrive exhausted
My childish slate
Is erased of dusky stories
Not wanting to describe
In a late dismissal
The clarity of evening
Swept from ground to sky
Strewn
Together
with
These
clothes
Once
close
Across
the floor
Is
a give of room
Lightening
And
leavening
The
mess
What
can't be
Carpentered
softly
Or
fixed to set a table
Will
just make my rest
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2013
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