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Spaghetti knots

older than grandfather

my grand father,

my grandfather

could tell you stories

that made you repeat words

so you could believe that

soil could make men

cuss and grow

with swords scattered

like disappointing flowers

and blood like miscoloured daisies

and planes that could go higher than

before until the next plane

goes higher

and people that were so powerful

they could move trucks with their teeth

and build barns in a day

and witchdoctors he had known

not that he wanted to

but had to because it was a small town

in Poland with smaller people

who thought big of how nature

can be conjured and summoned

sea following sea

sun leading all

including my grandfather

my grandfather

walking up wooden stairs

sloped and chipped

and summoned

by the teeth of the big man

who eventually joined the flowers

but not before my grandfather

my grandfather

was given chicken bones that

dictated his life but mostly his death

where he left descending stairs

without moving

feet sliding and slipping

teeth chattering in the cold

to more stories he’d tell

with or without flowers outside or inside

because he died

my grandfather

my grandfather

joining the chicken bones

to foretell future

About kacperniburski

I am searching for something in between the letters. Follow my wordpress or my IG (@_kenkan)

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