You stand at a doorstep that does
not exist
Counting anachronisms at least three when
A widow opens the door says come in dear girl!
Nashville’s burning the pillars falter
O the stars!
She says winter is convulsively droll
this year
And you smile with such unseasonable
charm
What I want to know she says is why you don’t
Rise against the silence this absence
of God
In the grace of your sweet unpersuadable face
Even the stars feel assiduously hard and grim
You no longer know how to pray but
see here
She says I am listening so be brief and don't
Say with two words what can be said with
one
Your curls tumble too languorously near
the sun
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