The groundwork has been laid;
the drywall, the mortar, the pestle.
The frame is sound. It will stand.
It will give us this day, minus the bread,
and forgive us the trespasses
we make against ourselves.
We are less than whole
within these walls, we lay
down and expect the leveling.
We are the wasp’s thirst, dry as rain
that doesn’t know another drop exists,
we are stronger than the storm
that hasn’t come yet.
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