the turning day

by Carol Bass

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all week I was stretching fate
pouring the milk and hoping…
today we fell over the edge
me, the coffee, the milk

such a fine cup, made by my son-in-law
with a handle that works
delicious beans from Nicaragua, ground at dawn
waking my wife
but the milk was gone, gone, souring the works
leaving me with no buzz
for the bike

 

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