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Poetry by Laura Winton

Excuse Poem

I forgot where I parked my car.
The police came and towed it
away. I lost my keys.

I lost my license. I
forgot your address.
And phone number.

I got lost on the way there.
I ran out of gas. I
couldn’t see in the dark
because my headlights
were broken. I turned
around and went home.

I will call you when I get there.

 
Fully Awake

Writing with eyes closed again again, always our eyes are closed, and we admit it, unlike those people who say “my eyes are open” as if to indicate experience, wisdom, an awakening. When we are born our eyes are closed, like puppies and kittens, and our metaphoric eyes remain closed to certain things in the world. Who can stay fully awake every minute to every beauty, every injustice in the wor(l)d? Who can possibly see everything with out flinching and learn to tell the tale and life and still stay true to oneself, to one’s humanity? We must keep our eyes closed sometimes: to pray, to sleep, to contemplate, so why not to write our dreams and prayers and hopes and not to worry if anyone can read them?

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