An Ode to Poem-A-Day

i leave already read poems
in my inbox. eye them as
treasures, Jacks-in-the-box I know
will tickle the child
inside that cries. how they
stay there, dusty with neglect,
and how they glow
with the quality to hold on hand
a magick continuously unknown to me,
like the nuance contained
in the way she wrote the words
“apple tree” I may not have picked
up on yet, or how the next time I
get to the end, I may not think of
my friend, discontinued by anger,
how I wish he would talk to me,
and tell me something
different.

-Stephanie Ambroise

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