déjà-vu

i remember this, this moment, as

it accumulates in my throat, an

incessant reverberation

calling out

over the hinterlands to arrive

at some studied Inheritance, a means

of knowing the end

while

unleashing the guideropes and wandering

shakily

on the dock; it

is our ill-formed heroics here that

make for

solid blows from the axe, heavings of

a dry Medicine

to cure

a spiritual Ache; We, here, who

stand

up to blows

and beaten paths, earn our upkeep

with careful Surrender

and misshapen

irony; what of it, then, the

cutting edge now shining with oil and

glazed with such incision? Will

our blades

dull with Time or Find us

here cutting

our tendril fingers

with

unerring grace?

*