hunger –

the Opulence of Silence is incomparable -- it

remains to be Seen

what will Come of it; a desert

wind breaks the mast

in two, Unpardonable; We inherit

dry Heat in Spoonfuls,

a lacquer-Coated

grinding in Our bones Wearing

on our Nerves so many Confidantes

the reckonings of Spirit so

Slight we almost blind ourselves in

looking back our hands outstretched awaiting

you . . .

*