Hope like a wheel, poem
Like a steal, echoes, echoes
Even in the silent type
I set, I am when I am
Alone with no one
To tempt me into talking
Talking, always betrayal
Always theft and mimicry
But that’s just you, I’m not me
The words sail over
Anachronistic transoms
And I embrace them
Like a clean pond embraces
The arrival of fresh ducks
And, from duckshit, the duckweed
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