Two poems for the price of one

Small World

We settle into a landscape,
blue green glass
and it turns,
snow falling
over a house and chapel.

We sit on our shelf.
Dust falls,
gathers over our globe.
No one shakes us anymore.

Vocabulary

Old voices thunder
back and forth,
shuffle through rooms,
sit
before the television
which erupts,
dimples the skin
with a braille impress
of the words
as they pass through
the house, then patter
the weeds in the garden.
“I’d like to buy
an A.”

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