Wednesday, January 22, 2014

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.


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