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A Freshly Baked Scone


You tug at the tattered edge

of the sky, risking a collapse

of fabric that would drape

skyscrapers and church steeples

and smother innocent passersby.

I know the ragged clouds offend

and the seam where sad old mountains

meet the sunset needs restitching.


But you’re not the world leader

who can deploy a million trained

tailors and dressmakers to fix

what eight thousand years of faith

have failed to uphold. Leave it,

and sit and enjoy your tea.

I brewed it the way you like it,

added milk to color it


the tawny shade you associate

with the lapping of the harbor

after dark. Your obsession

with cosmic imperfections can’t

end well, the scale too inhuman.

The war in Ukraine continues,

the sub-Saharan genocide

hasn’t yet exhausted its evil.


Dragging the sky down over us

won’t snuff the gray philosophies,

won’t solve the greed of majesties.

How about a freshly baked scone?

It’s not quite Scottish quality,

but it’s complete in itself

and will wash down easily

with hardly a catch in your throat.



William Doreski lives in New Hampshire, USA. He has taught at several colleges and universities. His most recent book of poetry is Mist in Their Eyes, 2021 and his essays, poetry, fiction and reviews have appeared in various journals.

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