“listen, listen, listen,”
he mouths beneath his breath
a mantra for his life,
a tattoo to his heart.
so goes the pulse and pull
of the day: listen to him,
to her, to the pattern
dancing like mice beneath
straw stalks jutting still
from the thick black earth,
the moon hovering low
like cows in summer’s shade.
listen through the nonsense
to the heart’s slow eviscerations.
(January 9, 2017)
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