ALL
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
accepting
embracing
releasing it
All.
– Diane Sophrin.
Vermont, 2.20.19
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