Doughy Moons

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Every cold Sunday
Sleeps cloudy allure too strong
to awake until noon
Every hot sunday
When sheets are thrown off
and sweat sticks

Every Sunday
Batter is pooled
thick and salty
slowly browning

Awakening
footsteps slump down creaking stairs

tablecloth smeared with something brown, maybe beans
hill of pancakes lays ahead
thick syrup in pitcher
doughy moons fill belly’s quickly





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roseann This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Feb. 10, 2010 at 4:28 pm
i really want to say that i got this but i didn't really. i mean if it was about how much you like sundays thats good, but if there is another meaning i can't find it. it did make you feel like your there experiencing those lovable sundays tho.
 
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