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Aloes at Hillside Dams

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Aloes at Hillside Dams

There is something human about aloes.
They smell  -  and feel, if you probe the slimy
parts – like sex.  They have cuticular roots
and they object to being planted in rows.
Their welcome is arm-like, sometimes grimy
with white scale, sometimes polished absolutes.
Their process of dying is shameless: top
down (or bottom up).  In their multitudes
they elaborate these Dams, not, somehow,
as genus, or variety, or crop,
but as comrades, citizens, darlings, dudes.
Their spaced teeth are not vicious.  Then and now,
past and present, something human. The name
invites a greeting… all winter… aflame.

John Eppel

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