The mottled brown vase
lies in shattered
mayhem
while the grey concrete bleeds
its distaste.
It turns up its nose
with a sniff
at the audicity
of it all -
says:
“I told you so.”
For that mottled brown vase
had decided
it must experience
flight.
-Siri Hammond
(I dropped one of my parents' wedding presents on the ground at Beasley Coliseum last fall. Whoops.)
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