Maxine
by Timothy Reed
a hand-me-down
perhaps once loved, but now
in this tank, out of sight
out of mind, out of reach.
My only warmth: this red bulb.
My only home: this dome - calcified,
chocolate-brown and untouchable
by no fault of my own.
My conscience, lily-white, bears down
upon the heart, late-turned tender
who cannot reach past
the glass box of time.
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