Saturday, April 1, 2017

iuniperi gravis umbra

I think I've solved the riddle:
You don't exist. If I'm right,
Then you have to let me go.
A woman's distorted voice
Weeps on behalf of speakers
Everywhere. If we'd never
Spoken a word would this shade

Still throw itself over us?
In lower pastures heifers
Celebrate spring by eating
And staring blankly at cars.
Up here, a doe watches me
From under a juniper
And can't speak for not being.

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