3 thoughts on “”

1. I find a conjoined apple in the fridge
   behind an empty jar of ketchup.

   Where did it come from? Is it one or two?
   I think of couplings that mark life,

   joy and sorrow, of course
   but also life and death, inseparable.

   Things are not things without other things.
   No surface is cleaned without dirtying another.

   Also: bread and butter, olives in dry martinis
   babies and diapers; or marriage, like the cleavage

   that joins two breasts. One is lost
   without the other, as all glory is laced

   with suffering, these are also
   conjoined twins, unyielding.

2. Pingback: Listening to Chopin’s Prelude in D-flat Major, Op. 28, No. 15
3. Pingback: word-poem://conjoined | Word Poems

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