Even Atom’s Rust

I can’t pour a colleague’s coffee
whose busy clasping hands
comfort everyone but himself.
Alone at lunch
with a friend’s substitute,
I only break
my own bread.

Iron rusts
no matter how much you care for it–It does
not mean your structure wasn’t sound,
just eventually we all fall down.
Pick up pieces and open up
those iron-framed gates
touched by rust.

The next fifty eyes
full of teenage tides
deserve a smile to temper pain.
But at three, I consent to loneliness
to learn how to better live and love.
One lesson’s learned best:
death never asks for consent,

So we ask it of each other
in order to cherish the rust
we’ve earned
from weathering pains
smiled through. Beauty is
in the rust
rain drops too.

Rust’s Hope:

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