Be
a cruel specter
a
naked empty heart
whose
ways of harsh
sweetness
quench me
Be
everywhere there
were
archers fletching
wickedly
black arrows
beneath
broad arches
Be
the double secret
of
contrived silence
unseen
unAmerican
be the whomever
be the whomever
you
are told to be
Be
the tiniest tornado
twirling
on the tip
of
my tongue teetering
like
all the eithers
like
all the either these
like
all the either those
O
be murmuring moonlight
bivouacked
outside my window
where
truncated trees
dance
a silly waltz
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