“How have you made division of yourself?”
–William Shakespeare, 12th Night
In order to feel,
I parse the world.
Behind prescription’s
Veiled violence,
I choke out
A staccato song
Into the resonance
Of the reflected world:
I am you— but
I am not you,
no more than the air
Is our breath
Fogging briefly
The silvered glass.
(November 6, 2018)
subtext 