I don’t know what to make
of this replay
of measured pain
of flaunted wounds

this dance this act this stage
lines known too well
abandoned, all of us
to this lilt of perversity

mortally wounded, all of us
being mortal, I suppose
not by death but life
and ourselves

too bad, too bad
all seeing all
stand-in perpetrators
sirens beyond the abyss

what’s so precious
I’d like to know
that with tenacious claws
we’d crush all that’s good

before seeing
releasing it



– Diane Sophrin.
  Vermont, 2.20.19




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