The wounds of my judge lie open
I mop but blood abounds. He sees
Me, he remembers me—
And every morning he awakens and he
Drinks a cold lake of brandy. Once he’s done you can see a depression in the mud where maybe
A meteor landed—or a great beast fell
Fighting for its life. Through the
Sinews of his unconsciousness he sees me
In the quiet of my room.
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