the first witness describes
a quiet day in the countryside
just fooling around
with death & prophesy
a streamlet caresses
a sky of blushing apricot
so that when the message is sent
nothing can be understood for doodling
it’s not sufficient to place political philosophy
under the microscope of melancholy
melancholy must also
be set to cheerful music
they perceive from early evening’s
invisibility that they are following them
so they swap smiles
& become sisters
i suppose it makes
for change rather than a glass costume,
but how lonely we are
is also unknown. every taste wounds
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