when appearances fail...

the cry that always escapes

the low, humiliating

premise of union--

 

in my mind tonight

i hear the question and pursuing answer

fused into one sound

that mounts and mounts and then

is split into the old selves

the tired antagonisms

 

How can I rest?

How can I be content

when there is still

that odor in the world?

 

-Mock Orange by Louise Glück (Triump 155)

Done