All of us are wounded and extraordinary –
carried to our fates
as if by serviceable beasts
who mostly can be counted on to tend us:
conscientious porters sweeping, turning on
the lights, generally putting things to rights.
Unsuspecting days and unexamined nights
become our fare until, perhaps responding carried to our fates
as if by serviceable beasts
who mostly can be counted on to tend us:
conscientious porters sweeping, turning on
the lights, generally putting things to rights.
Unsuspecting days and unexamined nights
to some small involuntary dare,
we disappear – no longer
here or there: replaced by space.
It isn’t terrible that we don’t leave a trace.
.
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