Table Poem by Shane Markie
Table
I'm made to be put upon,
to be sat at.
Round or square,
my numbers are millions.
I stand solidly
on my many legs.
Where you find me,
you find the ungainly two-leggeds,
moving, always on the verge
of losing their balance,
of falling down
Thursday, February 13, 2025
Topic(s) of this poem: numbers
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8/27/2026 11:43:29 PM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
