when the castle crumbles and the
hands are wrung
we will walk along the balustrade,
thinking about the loves we've had,
fulfilling the hopes of blind architects.
when this day comes, the clown will encounter
the count on the sable beach.
we cannot say who will win the duel.
trees crackle in winter
they are as afraid as we are.
there will be time,
in a minute, there will be time.
human voices wake us
and we drown

1 comment:
I love you, Harriet.
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