Love After Isolation

You live with it,
you sleep with it.
It’s your computer.

You take it to the shed,
there is wood and wood to chop,
your computer sits in front of
a can of turpentine.

The grass grows tall outside,
you are at a farm in Texas.

O Penthius!
Penth Fist!
our world is made of bone and air!

The sun shines in through the window
onto your computer.


– Poetry by Wes tewkMehrtin
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