Poetry from M. Spear

Ratchet
 
what cog
and what art
makes, assembles
us
what name do
we give to this
machine
we hardly know it
even as we roll
through its
mechanisms.
________________________________________________________________________
Slender
 
I loved your soft
citrus voice
from years ago
past
I wondered what
ever became of you
then saw you
recognizing how
much time has
gone by.

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