on my office wall,
above the lamp
and tiny, sterling Buddha,
a house centipede,
more legs than a marching troop.
How they move in unison,
soldiers obeying a single brain,
beautiful in their complex simplicity.
Except…one leg is missing.
You have to look closely to see it,


the gap in the line, the dark socket
empty of its resident.


I guess nothing is ever perfect.
I feel like I should salute it.

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