SEVERAL
My heart is several broken, and I
am several sad.
The sun’s a clouded messenger, and
I am clotted cream.
My night’s a waking ambulance, light’s
a faded dream.
I’ve torn too many pieces, my needle
is bare of thread.
I fear that I am living, I know that
I am dead.
The moon’s a distant negative, dust
a constant cloth.
There is no airless fire, there are
no moneyed moths.
I love, who never happened, I happened,
to be mad.
St-Lambert, circa 1986.
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