Currently working on a long read about my relationship with alcohol. Until then, here's a poem, about all my work this week sorting through children's books manuscripts.
Eraser Knob
My eraser knob, sad, nearly gone
chewed, gently, on the lawn.
An anteater nibbles, wishing, bit,
frustrated with progress, slowly, spit.
He paws precise, munches the milk
chocolate balls. I seep into the silt.
Tar and dirt, the colors brown --
I'll buy another, one knob gone.
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