Thursday, October 11, 2018

XVIII.

From her vantage they sail as ghosts,
cavernous and lost.
Upon this she lingers for a
moment but soon finds
herself betrayed by memory
returning again
to the sly comfort of fiction
and the empty glass.
Better to stifle such query
than to risk the price
of more fully acknowledging---
clever delusions
in the precipitous half-light.

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