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A Refining Fire

I used to imagine that the body was a sort of fleshy gospel, bound together by mind and ligaments. Years of smutch, and oily reduction, daily, a thin scum to be skimmed - a process of dross elimination, but each year there is a teaspoonful of loss that cannot be explained, made up or accounted for, more a lessoning and not an alchemy. If this kind of culinary reduction keeps losing the fat of me I will be as nothing, and maybe that’s the point.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2021




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Date: 12/27/2021 8:42:00 AM
Another poem with such great use of words. I am familiar with skim of the dross and know the physical loss in each sweep. - Thanks Eric - Ken
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Eric Ashford
Date: 1/16/2022 10:26:00 AM
Thanks for this fine commentary Ken. Much obliged to you.