Runcible Spoon

poetry and prose webzine

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All night, ash trees swayed

in the hot wind. I saw this

through closed eyes, heard

their song of roots and mud.

Mountain shadows seemed

to bend toward the sea.

Under my pillow, I kept

a silver coin to purify my dreams.


In the morning, I drank hot

water with lemon,

did thirty push-ups, slow,

and sat in the corner to breathe.

I rushed garbage to the curb

in time to meet the men

in their yellow truck

as it grumbled down the street


chewing white bags and black.

I sharpened my knives and kept

my powder dry. I loaded

every rift with ore. I made a list,

checked my heart rate, turned

my mirrors into sand.

You see, I took your advice

on how to survive in a world of lies