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July 7, 2009

The peacock’s shriek always claims His vengeance.
“Vanity, vanity!” she called it,
every letter light-pierced and partial
stabbing back his every word.

“Vanity, vanity!” she called it.
Unmarried, childless, homely, “slow,”
stabbing back his every word
she still knew to nod at the passing litany of cities as she stared at their wronged faces.

The big-rig long haulers bragged her past as the hunters laughed if she’d pray for the quails.
They went laughing off to kill, and the sun seemed to tug to do exactly that.
She still knew to nod at the passing litany of cities as she stared at their wronged faces
back to the banter she could hardly follow.

They went laughing off to kill, and the sun seemed to tug to do exactly that.
Animals be damned
back to the banter she could hardly follow.
It’s not happiness, but something else; waiting for the light to change.

Animals be damned.
It emerges from darkness into the next day surrounded.
It’s not happiness but something else; waiting for the light to change
by their memories of everything that occurred taking place.

It emerges from darkness into the next day surrounded
with the other’s face as a backdrop sometimes
by their memories of everything that occurred taking place
in air sometimes grainy like a movie with sometimes an ending that looked like a different beginning.

With the other’s face as a backdrop sometimes,
in which one walked in front of the other breathing
in air sometimes grainy like a movie with sometimes an ending that looked like a different beginning
all stories stop: once more she is lost.

In which one walked in front of the other breathing
every letter light pierced and partial
all stories stop: once more she is lost.
The peacock’s shriek always claims His vengeance.