Manuscript Copy*
The end of the book
Is the beginning of the wall.
One season per day?
We leave the reasons
To the clouds.
Choreograph your prance.
Then dance
Outside our boundaries.
How did your revival
Precede your premiere?
Your names are screaming
Out from the corners of my room.
Enter my comfort zone
And exchange it for yours.
Fish names now spread
To the natives who once caught them.
Let go of an idea
Once it is fully formed
And finished with you.
A poem without an ending
Can tend to be very long.
Your god is in the details.
The devil no longer edits
Or even exists.
Temptation is often
Merely a statement of loss.
A band of happy thieves
Breathes free a little while.
Tom Savage
7/31/05
*Written while watching Manuscript, a play by Paul Grellong
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