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Like Strawberries

Our world view is restricted by what we see, we work in silos distinct and separate from each other and our injuries are seasonal, like strawberries, muses a philosophical poet.

We went about our work

as detached

as portable drills,

as clipped from the main

description of the trip

and itinerary

as permission slips.

We checked the foreman’s blueprint

and admired the building

taking shape.

It was like watching a puppet show

through x-ray lenses.

Our injuries were predictable,


like strawberries.

We took our coffee black

and understood discolored thumbs

better than anyone.

In the evening we took our shirts

down to the river.

Fish and riverboats passed us by.

The world was fish and riverboats.


Glen Armstrong holds an MFA in English from the University of Massachusetts, Amherst and edits a poetry journal called 'Cruel Garters.' He has three current books of poems: 'Invisible Histories', 'The New Vaudeville', and 'Midsummer.' His work has appeared in Poetry Northwest, Conduit, and The Cream City Review.

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