Splitrock Trickle
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My Poetry

Pickles

2/21/2020

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Basement corner
Long small room
Dark dirt floor
Single light bulb
Wooden shelves
Filled with jars


Jar after jar
Filled and dusty
Mom’s hand in marker
On the lids
Of all the different
Beets, tomatoes and pickles

​The dates marked time
Of the days in the past
When the women gathered
Over boiling pots
Sealing the jars
Together then shared
The pickles.
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