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Accounting

Related Poem Content Details

Its fine
incisors
grinding

my mother
fed my
father’s
fledgling
carpentry
concern
into her
adding
machine

as if its
hunger
could be
satisfied

costs and
savings
spooling
to our
wooden
kitchen
floor and
pooling

amounting
to nothing

a shop tool’s
shavings.

Source: Poetry (October 2012)

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This poem originally appeared in the October 2012 issue of Poetry magazine

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Accounting

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