1,223 Readings

from After the Fox

After the fox, see
the chase.  Feel the theater.
A grasp at something
with a velvet waist.
An overcoat fails.  In other words,
midtown.  In other memories,
hands were held
by pearl bangles.
By starlight.

May I call you
Morning, Morning?
I would say “again.”
But it’s been said,
again, and better than
once.  I did not jump.
Once, I did not know
you or your other
more comfortable shoes, then,
worn when you strode
from the ermine sea.

I do no not forget
what I owe. I do not
sleep on your account.
Posted 06/25/13
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