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And now, it’s all the same

to you—

the mouth, the sink, the dream.

A bed at the edge of an ocean’s the same

as a train speeding

through Germany.

The Bureau of Travels

has approved all your plans, so you

no longer need

your passport, your cell phone, your coat

to blaze screaming

through the vast North, waving

a flag on fire in the snowy forest, pouring

wine all over the ground, draping

the rearview mirrors

of my car

with red cloth, fogging

the windows, locking the doors, staging

all this silence and emptiness and rust

to torment me, to reveal to me

the hidden mechanics

of lust, having


as you did this morning, from being

a humble student of the universe

to its greatest authority.

from Lilies WithoutFind it in the library

Copyright © 2007 Laura Kasischke
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Laura Kasischke Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.