Number Thirty

Can I write now?
The poem is over…

Laughter is defending
and justice is unequal to

cry. Shout, ‘laugh sing’ –
slow down your heart for
the winds to blow – I have
come through the sycamore’s
blades

Dogs doing it on the lawn while
David watched. Christ poor and
in prison.

Groping for a word Meredith was
sworn in for trial.

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