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A Broken Kettle

A poem about perspective

Photo by John-Mark Smith on Unsplash

So the kettle broke the other month.
Just shut down there in place.
No explanation or prior warning,
Just a silence left it in it’s space.

But we’re Humans, we are. Blood we don’t have.
Just hot drinks infused in our veins.
We learn to adapt, to evolve, to move on.
We even attempt the full use…



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Emily Wilcox

I imagine in a parallel universe I might be a caricaturist or a botanist or somewhere asleep on the moon — but here, I am a writer.