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Monday, February 08, 2010

Working the Seam of our Existence













by Justine C. Tajonera

I remember the wind rushing
beneath my feet
last Friday,
riding a pedicab
to work.

I remember watching the smog,
a layer over the city,
embracing the tops of buildings,
immersing all of us
in a dark soup.

I remember making a stew
on Sunday,
smelling the simmering onions,
the tarragon, the basil,
the parsley,
the cloves
of garlic,
the dissolving flesh and bones
of chicken.

All of these under one sky,
all the beauty and despair,
all the ugliness and the euphoria,
all under one roof,
no air lighter or more fragrant
for the best of us,
no escaping the seam that
sews us into our
places.

We work the needle and
the thread,
the stove and the ladle
of our collective
existence.

There is no escaping
responsibility
in the
end.

(Feb. 8, 2010)
Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/53326337@N00/2176821524

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