Monday, December 16, 2013

Rodak's Writings: a New Poem

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Fullness



I lick the tip

of my index finger

and press it

to the interior surface

of the emptied

ziploc bag

to capture

the eight or ten

fat grains of salt

that have fallen from

the devoured pretzels –

not even these

shall be wasted --

oh, how they please

my grateful tongue
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