Suspensions

My world is filled with hanging things––
pots and pans and cutting boards
sifters, spoons, and time-dried apples––
Things. And people too are hanging,
ancestral pictures nailed on walls.
Surfaces. Flat faces. No depth but then
move on to the eyes and there reflections are
of pots, pans, cutting boards
time-dried apples pungent with hidden life.

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