Friday, September 5, 2014

Read All About It

Morning Paper

Lured outside by the Friday New York Times
Lurid within a blue plastic bag and

Hemming boundaries of All The News That’s
Fit To Print, I froze in tableau.  A late

Summer dew chain mailed the lawn, jackass
Pajamas rucked the breadth of my backside

Hair on the nape of my neck snapped
Awake, jolted me up on my toes bee

Stung cursing until I realized it was
Only You, one of your too cute-by-half

Ploys to draw me out in the open.  What
Now? I groused, thought of course, no less than deed

In Your eyes.  “Apology accepted.”
Before I had time to get the words out

Before I had a chance to reflect on
The mystery of faith, before I woke

Up to the fact You were already gone
And I was alone in my bedroom scuffs

Certain only of dawn and this paper
News of Your hand stayed anew in the world. 

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