Sweetly Undivided Thing

Today you wish your mind were decorous –

would float aloft as soft as a baroque andante –

not the wreckage of a three-card-monte game

it is today: that sly manipulating shyster

conjuring its surreptitious underhanded plans

and waiting for another chance to cheat itself

into its private dark again. Where’s the sweetly

undivided thing you might have been,

and might still be, and, who knows, maybe

were? – if you could just remember when.

.