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  • Gary Hunter

The Old Mug May 25, 2020

shaped like two cupped hands

polished porcelain edge curved for lips

a half-heart handle two fingers embrace

with thumb for thoughtless tipping

the Sunday news is black bleak

in gulps of sentences stained coffee rings

are exposed like a watering hole that

measures a summer’s drought

released by end-of-the-week weariness

the mug clinks in the kitchen sink

I fill its well with water then continue

my search to quench this ever-present thirst


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