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The Usual Decision-Making Process

All day I gather signs: my scars shine,

a rope ladder hangs from a bolted window,

in the corner store a shimmering robe

drapes a headless, hollow monster

and I still think of your body.

On my table a ladybug searches

for someplace to cram herself

like a note she didn’t want to know

she’d written. It only gets dark

half the sky at a time. An hour later,

my watch, glowing, hasn’t moved.

Earlier, I think, the river showed me

places to disappear but it was fooling itself,

the river wasn’t going anywhere. Impossible

to cut out your own heart but if you do,

maybe you’ll grow another.

from Fall HigherFind it in the library

Copyright © 2011 Dean Young
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Dean Young Poems

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