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Monday morning (a poem)

Monday morning

-S.M.G.


We reached an understanding when you translated the morning

from a dream I kept getting stuck on to the only sense—waking

even I was mapping the teritory of our conversation turning and turning

from the night before rising with the same dark cover of the Bible

we have been on the same page and also closing it up as a weapon

insanity speaking in tongues and common sense of direction

everything is a mere perception of reality we speak in the knowing

find our way back and forgive in a reading of natural light

we both picked up from all the exposure coming fast as a commute












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