These shapes I lose
like the hum of breath, lose
in a room like this
that breeds dumb despair.
I cry not knowing what
such grief dominates, feeling
the gully deepening, crossing
beyond all sensation of the sun.
I am what I cannot tell, am
drinking in this mild death,
discordant as a scream or dream.
I dream in shadows. I work within the zodiac spheres.
I see beyond but cannot kill
my fate nor offer a crumb
of kindness
to my enemy’s mouth.
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