One head cannot
Fathom the lesson of the next.
Both past-tense.
Tensed into XL limbs, like rustic America.
Shattered between terse,
Planks of land, that we say benefit our hands.
Oh god, they are mud-glazed.
I fear their hollows and tumult.
Spaced memory finished. Another forgotten.
No helping two mud-slats,
Already marked as broken.
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