Take it in your hand
absorb the key facts, remember the ridges,
lock this into your memory.
Let it sit, untouched,
held in place with yesterday’s dust,
in the room off of the corner of our home.
Pay it no mind
gentle snoring, a casual scratching,
the foundation is settling, old bones creak.
Your hands, now calluses
and wrinkles and gnarled rootwork, bending in on themselves, they will remember.
It is almost time.
awakening like the crash of a rogue wave,
something has washed ashore.
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