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All the Difficult Hours and Minutes

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All the difficult hours and minutes
are like salted plums in a jar.
Wrinkled, turn steeply into themselves,
they mutter something the color of  sharkfins to the glass.
Just so, calamity turns toward calmness.
First the jar holds the umeboshi, then the rice does.

Source: Poetry (May 2008)

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This poem originally appeared in the May 2008 issue of Poetry magazine

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All the Difficult Hours and Minutes

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