Tuesday, March 8, 2016

WORK OUT

Inside a large brown 
and beige 
dream I was 

having, I wept
and prayed, 

and wept and
prayed, and kept 

weeping and 
praying, in these 

neverending
circuits, like

crazy—until,

at long 
last, this plaster 
cast (which I always 

kept close—it was
all
I had 

left) 
of her 
face broke—

into that ravishing 
secret 
emblem of light- 

smile—which
only I 
would be able to recognize 

from past 
experience, as 
being composed

of half-
pity 
and half-

a rejoinder 
of relaxed, unbiased 
laughter—dispatching exactly 

what I needed, 
and exactly 

when I 
needed it: a miracle (yes, 

but one 
which I'd 
still think was hard-

won)—and a simple,
rigid, formal instruction:

to quit—
weeping so 
much and stop 

praying so often—
and, for god's 

sake, to wake- 
up and just 

kiss her—somewhere below 
the neck, already.

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