Tuesday, April 22, 2014

One Clear Single Wish




It was as if you’d lifted up
the thing you’d been,
the infant sensibility
from which the whole

beginning gained its shape
and found its spin,
though it was not
the baby you, and you were

not its guardian: there was
some other strange
relation to be understood:
and then it grasped you –

made you want to cry.
The baby you held up
had one clear single wish:
it wished to fly.








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