Crow-call Collector
You sort out the crow-calls
in a wide-brimmed basket,
other people's opinions
you collect in your head,
presenting them to me, like a child
who thinks the products of the Earth
are their own.
And what if it's riddled with microplastics?
Your square-rimmed grin doesn't care.
We are standing at the edge
of a world where the meaning of things
can weigh down a basket
and send its contents
to the floor, falling away.
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