Brooms and Wickerware

Joint fulcrums.

Listed worlds.

Hardhats and gospel singers.

Freezing faucets and baseball bat spines.

Golden horseshoes that never miss.

Floating actresses that touch on every word.

Join, hold hands, go through the motions. Lift and spill the honeydew juice, glistening in the window sun that illuminates dusty air. Join together the lives that lost a little less that the rest of us. Batten down.

Hold still.

Lose it all and smell the broom.