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Bernard M. Cox Anthills Like the moment When you’re washing dishes, And you turn to grab your mother’s good china, Which was her mother’s before her and her mother’s — An object reminder of generational love — Thinking you’re being a good citizen, Doing your chores, But the plate is slippery, and You drop it. It hits the edge of the counter And freezes for an instant In the air, And you think You can catch it, But it spins out of reach And shatters on the tile. Or it’s like Watching kids grab fireflies And smash them on the ground Just to watch the residue Glow. You feel Sick for it, Because you showed them fireflies And you told them how fireflies kept you company When you ran away from home. And you yell at the kids, But a small flash in your mind,

Profile for Kerri Foley

Crack the Spine - Issue 30  

Literary Magazine

Crack the Spine - Issue 30  

Literary Magazine

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