She accidentally drops
a penny
into a plastic cup
filled with water.
Aiming for the tip
jar, how did she miss?
Whose water—
now magical
or polluted? No one
notices. She decides
on magic,
and it would be
peace for you, Dad.
She accidentally drops
a penny
into a plastic cup
filled with water.
Aiming for the tip
jar, how did she miss?
Whose water—
now magical
or polluted? No one
notices. She decides
on magic,
and it would be
peace for you, Dad.
No agent would help
the poet. Bottles
get flattened down to two
dimensions—a window display
for early morning
risers uncertain
about their place. Whoever
turns himself
in becomes the true
peddler of reprieve.