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IN PATIENT SPADEFOOT TORPOR, PERHAPS LISTENING

he waits, for he is a spadefoot. And as surely as men ride in the beds of pickups holding shovels, sometimes
squinting, so too does the spadefoot. He is surrounded.
An ant crawls across a dog biscuit. A baseball hat is mistaken
briefly for a large mushroom. Nobody seems to ever tire
of this. Then everyone gets tired at once, and night is quiet.

Michael E. Craig

#Michael E. Craig  #poetry 
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