Creative Writing > Poetry Poetry: Futility

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FutilityEleven thirty-something, FridayOn this six-plus year-old couchRed microfiber washed a hundred timesMy kindergartner sleeps soundMouth open-wide, audibly breathingBlonde curls resting candid all around.It occurs to me, two directorsOne of will and one of postBoth think they traded up with me removedBlame it on the econ... More..

Vanessa Daffron

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