Sunday morning

Dust motes and black mould. Stiff neck and sore back. Sipping green tea. People are mowing the grass and cutting the branches outside.

after cleaning house
staring at the clouds moving
cut grass

under the same roof
we all sleep

let us peel
the potatoes
for evening supper

bell bottom
clouds

I have borrowed
my brother’s jeans

there is no wind
to carry

the closing of spring

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