Haiku

The world keeps turning
Like nothing ever happened
Even though you're gone
 
salt between the teeth
grinding grinding the water
never stops falling
 
burn all but my lips
and have those stuffed and mounted
in sweet memory
 
Ursa. Homo. Which?
No right answer; just more strife.
We divide, again.
 
Knowing the grave: why?
Depart as you learn? You gain
Only to lose, sudd-
 
Thought, outside the box:
Black leather makes good gloves, too.
One right answer? Nope.
 
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