![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiDP_gRm8BDFw_YMlcIt0H25-GC7K78DBMqP4jfw7hSDpzEtiXdlWc-2_dHQCmRZ5HS58KZWPWOlN_Uy6wIMRp61BnzJSrEmi438KM3DJ4NeTkMczhx6TuvruCSt_fZiGP2Csrxjv06Zbg/s400/rehearsal.jpg)
This Wagner-viral flow
of operatic breadth and length:
you court an image of it
dressed in heavy purple,
royal blue and burgundy brocade –
all fading now to gray: virulently
enervating systems
slowly through the week:
demonstrating an extraordinary
delicacy, expertise in wielding
and proliferating weakness
through the narrows
and the deltas and the beaches
of the body’s porous continent:
breeding silently through
shoulders, arms and legs
and head and knees –
interesting, this propagating
warm insidious disease:
another cold, again,
which at its waning,
past this bend, you almost
want to coddle and befriend:
emit a breath of gratitude
for the illuminating
oddly comfortable gift of its
oblique rehearsal of the end.
.
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