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“Thank you. The poem creates its own identity”

 

Thank you. The poem creates its own identity.

It stood beside you for two hundred years.

It never left the imperial fringes,

Except in passages stained by a single tear.

The other night, I dreamed an architect

Recited lively words, punctuated by kisses,

While I repaired the thing you might have saved.

Yes, I embraced that obscure faith. I swerved

And you, my lonely reader, followed me.

Dualities of love as cold as armor.

“I see a street, and over it the rose”:

I can’t believe the things I’ve heard you say,

Or wouldn’t, but for the notes I stashed away.

On to the next stage. I swear I won’t repeat—

from LucindaFind more by John Beer at the library

Copyright © 2016 John Beer
Used with the permission of Canarium Books.

Published in John Beer 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.

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