Random Acts of Poetry
Curious George
Midwives love secrets:
why an hourglass turns,
how the sun melds many into one.
You are light and grace notes today,
and a mystery for that.
A rumble beneath my feet
spirits me away.
A TV screen fills with mute faces.
My reflection in plate glass
could be anyone.
These apes are always on time,
their little hands spinning on dials
or numbers flickering fast.
Monday dissolves into Tuesday,
much strangeness is left unsaid.
...
Yeah, if only.
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