VIRGINIA SHARKEY

Writing

This Mortality

This mortality shit,
––and time, that passes so swiftly and the dire

sentimentality of it all:
people dying, even
friends

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Sunday

The mirror on her white dressing table

tinged with pink

reflects the sultry sky of an endless

afternoon for those of the living.

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Saturday

You carry on your shoulders
the dense lead of the entire week:

leftovers, sweepings, stains.

What is crooked needs to be straightened,

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Ocean You Are Dark Blue Today

Ocean you are dark blue today,
because of the sky I guess,
though it’s only a porcelain tea cup pinky finger blue.

But this ocean blue of a particular Tuesday
glimpsed left speeding towards Rossi’s hardware
for three bags of gravel and four fender

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