The spacing, there, some
rain. What it does to none
of me as a result of forgetting
where the piano keys go or a window
cutting all weathers into boxes
on a calendar. Look, today's
May and there's a pile
of quiet electricity bills
I am sending through a shredder
in case you didn't notice
we never left the house.
The Soul selects her own society,
then
Shuts the door.
e. dickinson
Friday, May 9, 2008
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