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Sea Locks

Here the keys fit no locks.
Not that I have keys

though if I did they’d be
brass and easy

to fit in a pocket.
Today each object,

the train taking me to work,
the knife to slice the apple,

the shard of broken light on
the floor, even the wall around me,

is a weapon.
Books tough planks to beat me

on the head, or perhaps they’re oars
to ease me out to sea.

Posted 12/21/11
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