The Hardest To Let Go,  Miracle of Pipes

by Kathy Douglas

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The Hardest To Let Go

your hands still appear
in dreams, as if
twelve years haven’t gone
by and I’m accustomed
to their comforts and knowledge
of every soothing callous



Miracle of Pipes

They run beneath everything,
laid mainly by men
with families, sweating

joints in trenches dug,
some by hand. Once
in a while there’s a burst

and those great grand-
children come and excavate
like plans also laid

that don’t quite work out.
Not exactly foundations,
unless you count water

which we mainly are,
afterall, like the veins
of civilization at it’s best

pumping something like blood
for the assembled starting
another day at the tap.







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