infinity's flaw
was found before all
had got wise to the fact
they were unawares
to this perfect uncoupling
unimpaired by any realistic
sense
or care.
But we took such pains
in the end, it was
somehow square.
Or rectangular, narrow
across the wide, taller still
in the front and back,
with you and me deep,
and on each side
bearing pall to the shameful hole
where we died. The legend
of us goes on and on. Our friends
took such hope in the song
we wrote with our hearts'
and lives' bloody quill
pressing on.
No comments:
Post a Comment