Catharsis
by Beverly V. Head
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It has come to this now.
The dust collecting in the corners of my windows
has scattered over the cracked sill.
But I cannot read the new pattern.
I can see the foot of my bed and
I can hear the noise of my voice.
But in the back of my mind,
the cobwebs keep forming and
the Pepsi and Coke commercials keep playing
and the dust in my window
has changed to a different pattern.
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