waste basket deluge

a regurgitation

of repeated tales

an ancient tradition

of people enslaved 

to clean the filth 

from others’ feet


wearing shoes

that bruise 

blood-soaked leather 

constricts in the sun

i banish fear 

with a leap 

from the edge

and a reach 

for stillness



aware of cycles

lives handing off 

the baton 

last act 

the same as the first


i know how 

to exit the carousel 

while grabbing the ring


in puddles

i remove 

the clutter 

outer is inner

and Love knows

the path

requires the clarity

to see


their mess

is not mine 

to clean


© M.G. Iannucci 2017
Photo: Geisha

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