“The Tin Woodman Tries to Bend Spoons” by Morgan Adams

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but fails when he imagines
them as his own children, soft

silver heads shining, his own
face echoed from his jointed

hands. When no one’s looking
he fits them under his funnel

cap, where the sun’s heat
will strike to warm them.

He wonders, what will emerge
if their little necks go wobbly

and tin-plate bodies melt, form
teeth, arms? There’s no telling.

-Morgan Adams

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