The Midlife Crisis Poet
Some people have affairs or buy a motorcycle. I became a poet.
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Wednesday, April 1, 2020
Follow Up
Rip off the tape,
peel away the bandages,
snip the stitches,
remove the bloody drains.
Ignore the yelps of pain,
the wincing eyes.
Look critically at your work.
Not the prettiest embroidery
on a flawed sallow canvas.
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