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poems

Walking Home

Who are these teething tots

What are these tiny tendons tying me to these teething tots

Wailing for their walters

Weeping for their walters

Crying at the altar

Who are these people when I’m tossing my head up at the sky

My nose is in the air

My neck is too tired to hold it up

Head full of thoughts

It’s weighing me back like a bowling ball

Head up at the sky 

Heaving big old sighs

But nothing I’ll do 

Nothing I’ve done

Just things, other people 

Whirling around me

Waiting at the walters

Waving at the altars

Throw my head back and sigh

My back of the head touches the tops of my shoulders

My overalls come undone

I’m a working woman walking home 

Writing poems

When does it ever stay still

I don’t 

I know it doesn’t

But you gotta think sometimes it does

Gotta think that you’re anchored with kisses at this point

You gotta think your feet are anchored to the ground with squeaking shoes

When you sigh they hold you down

Head up at the sky 

Heaving big old sighs

What are these teething tendons

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