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Thursday, April 12, 2018


They say the air is fine (exhilarating)
& it's true it's pierced with a throng

To whom do I sing today
Sister, you do not love my voice

have never kept it when I gave it
have never called it when I forgot

Still it's yours & so are my hands
Nothing in this remnant town 

endures beyond your final
gesture     turning at the edge of the field

unplowed across the brow      a bag held
loosely across your shoulders

Had I known it was my last
moment to take you in      I'd have

fallen to the earth      begun to chew
till I could swallow us both

& keep us down

*First line grabbed randomly from The Letters of Marianne Moore

1 comment:

bloof said...

ack, I omitted the last line when I copy/pasted this last night

but i am waffling about it anyway

but there it is: WAFFLING