Sunday, January 7, 2018

A light curse

By now I'm almost gone.

Between the tan hair and ashen end
I was finely dealt with.

I could elevate the moment and say,
"But I rise",

But I don't rise.

So many of us committed suicide at the same time
That memory eased up a bit, used only first names--

Nicknames for the Johns .
Nicknames for the virgins.

I used to look up at night to the coin of sky above the well where
I wound up.

As if counting out along with me I would with Them catch the feathers that fell where
Individual ribs should have been.

And with each I would remind myself that I to it--not it to I

Was close to a captive mercy,
or answer.

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