Daily Living








Through gritty scratchmarks in my memory,
I see the small pockets of light
where I reside in a matrix of gray.

Dashing into my nest
to escape the impossible
has been alright since

hollow granules
filled with ice cream
run through the gravel.

Emerging from the hole,
like the captive loving the kidnapper
I am going to miss my Winnipeg in Winter.

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