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Lillo Way: isolation consolation

September 7, 2022 by PBQ Leave a Comment

we’re staggering now, just slightly 
and we like it 

caught out of time, out
of rhythm, way off rhyme 

letting go of gravity, falling into
the dance, not a big solo,  

no, it’s a household’s square-ish 
round dance.  

take hands, raise a glass, a bottle,
your arms,  

thatch a canopy 
for family to pass under  

as your feet grapevine, hands 
clasp hands  

in a finite circle of praise
praise  

 to the human this terrible animal. 
in the morning  

we’ll feel low
beyond the adverbs quite very so 

reel with me, every human
who’s ever sought  

through herb, blossom, bark,
to transcend, to end  

up, not figuring out the compound 
word of compassion  

but merely to borrow 
for a little while,  

it’s heavy-soft wings
and embrace our fellow inmates. 

Filed Under: Issue 102, Poetry, Poetry 102 Tagged With: Lillo Way

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