Constructing Confines

Ronna Bloom
“Bracelets Made of Scrabble Tiles”
Cloudy with a Fire in the Basement

[like a haiku found in the middle of the poem]

And the knotted wood
he kept in the garage
too good
to throw out
was made into his coffin.

I like how the wood-good rhyme makes one almost expect “coffin” and “garage” to be sonorous companions. I do admire how the tension between keeping and releasing is worked through.

And so for day 2989

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