One happens to hear a name
Quiver
briefly in the air before one's face—not
Quite
an echo certainly not a cough
An
inconvenient sob is what one thinks
It hardly matters in the thin procession of names
Strolling
leisurely in translucent gowns—now
Dancing
anonymously through hungry rooms
One’s
entire mind might as well stare in stunned
Amazement at
an endless file of zeros—one
Breathless O after another floating from a void
One’s
entire mind might behold a truth
That
never surrenders except in its winding path
And anonymous return to the void
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