So we'll eat stones, I guess.
We gave up our ambitions, our glory:
we fell asleep last night and there were
fantastic green dreams beyond anything.
But we woke and we'll eat sand and stone.
I wanted to rip us back asleep, with knives.
[I want to say this for you and I,
for the things we lost, for everyone who watched
while the last thing that saved them
dissolved into the waking dawn.
But there are too many of us, and I wish
that it would not need to be said at all.
Our only hope is to see the common tragedy.]
I guess that we'll eat our fill at last,
where the rest have already gone.
There was something, once. I could not
stop once, then I could only burst with adoration--
I guess. But we are awake now. In the last alley.
And it is time for supper, for paper bags and sand.
_____
Tay Arrow Sherman
"Wickedness is a myth invented by good people to account for the curious
attractiveness of others." -Oscar Wilde
1KRT: http://www.one38.org/
1(617)983-8137
AIM: Adopted Clownfish
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