GRIEF Poem: Object, Permanent, by Matthew Gulley

his. social network
filled with dead links

his. calls,
increasing volume without joy

his. sleeping in a chair
while those around converse

M. could but
where would it lead instead?

Her, in tireless
automatons make morning

come awake in kitchen clean
the slow grind of eggs against metal

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Author: poetryfest

Submit your Poetry to the Festival. Three Options: 1) To post. 2) To have performed by an actor 3) To be made into a film.

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