The flashlight my sister sweptacross the heavens got no responseeither. When my brother leaves his lab,he’s still limping and our governor’s demandingfunerals for aborted fetuses and where’sa fetus gonna get the scratch for that?So yes, there are dark shapes in doorways.Can’t be helped. Today, I found a chunkof amethyst with a face inside you could tellwas willing to wait another million yearsfor its scream to come out so let thatbe a lesson. Ditto the same cuckoothat followed Tomaz out of Chinatries to follow me but gets slapped backin security and I don’tjust don’t. Maybe Jay’s right that it allcomes down to one untranslatablefragment of Parmenides. Like whena dead child is covered with petalsor a goat receives a garland of bells.It’s a thin red thread that holdsthe soul to the earth. Visibilityis a disguise.
Copyright © 2019 by Dean Young
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
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