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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