Squeezing my life into a 4x4 cube

October 20, 2007
not inches,
Hinged top chest-high,
whirling with knots,
a glow imbues soft amber wood.
I’ve never used a drill before;
some screws go in angled, some not at all.
But I laugh.
Air suffused with ‘screw’ jokes,
we can fit six of our number into the box—
strange, because we’d otherwise find ourselves trying to get out.

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