Thursday, July 15, 2010

St. Bonaventure

I opened my mouth

and all the four-leaf clovers

I’ve collected over the years

fell out.

The antique slips I use for curtains

are stained with storm. This night

is so brittle.

Music thumps above me.

The dogs from behind the wall

yap and yap over the whir

of all these silver fans.

I sweat out

all my grace.

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