Pruning (a poem)

We return you now to our regularly scheduled programming…

I cut back the daffodils today—I think

One plant looks the same as another
in twilight grey and black

the living

the dead

the barely hanging on

the maybe it’ll look better in the morning
and maybe I can forget
the way she once did

the maybe if my mind didn’t drift off
onto side streets in the middle of nowhere
then maybe this would all be different

the maybe…

I don’t know

I just needed something to do

(30 April 2020)

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