with little reason,
gone running
give the
best bestial cry and
issue a less than solid
ultimatum —
lives hang
in the grey haze
the grassy base
the torn, thorny tube
while your insistence
walks down a long
narrow hall
plenty else waits
in various
unknown rooms
around unlit
corners
wishing you
would do for them
dependence and you
are dependence
elsewhere
someone says,
"this is a trial"
and the curtain
shimmers
across the side
of your path
you could go there
or here or here
none is
more insistent
and on your
choice may hang
nothing less
than a swoosh or
a creak —
may
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