III. Six Caryatids

Agnyte, like yellowing eyes half-

shut-up with jaundiced doubt,

I turn back to you as one waif

to another, as one wandering flout

might emerge from the terminal, smiling,

pleased to be removed from his condition

without plans for the next. Liebling,

I know as well as you. Silent audition

is not only dishonest, but impossible

for me: I glare into the flowers of

bosenberries, juniper, anise with sensible

products and lightened spirits, dove-

tailed to the highway. Momentarily–

like cold, rainy transients on concrete–

I would hold you close, unnamed and wholly,

but we require more than coffee and defeat.

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