Adventures in Poor Grammar
Stumbling toward correct comma use.
Make Good Art.
-Neil Gaiman
Sunday, March 22, 2020
Stillness
Be still he tells me.
His stillness
is blackbird songs.
Mine,
ambulance sirens.
He smells fresh bread breaking
and I,
Ammonia cleaner.
He feels our cat's reassuring purr.
I only her sharp claws.
Be still, he tells me.
I love him enough to try.
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