Sunday, January 18, 2015

Ten Years.

If I had asked would you have told me?
We would be stunned at the work we've done,
Ten years to get to this degree and
How it was our undoing. 

If I had known myself better then, 
would I have chosen now?

A decade later, a tenure of over-reading myself 
to reach this little ‘i’,
A decade done, 
was my love was illiterate? 

Maybe Our life is what we catalog. 
Specimen-lined walls of safe dark samples
we reference when the trace gets lost again. 

Could you have told me then, 
before this decade done,
that when the ivory towers are gored
nothing comes clean anymore,
only pure?

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