Twenty Tiny Colonies
Caked in
flour; her hands
and hair bagged
for questioning.
Twenty
tiny
colonies of
jam fall down her
apron like plinko
chips down
a polish coat rack.
Not tonight, though.
Tonight,
dressed in Morocco
and Grace;
hair, drawn like
a longbow, like
a half-forgotten dream.
poem by Eric Raanan Fischman
Added by Poetry Lover
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