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One thing I ask


One thing I ask:
that I might know true love
before I have no strength,
and the undertaker measures
how long I am, my length,
for the coffin he’s prepared,
from which my waxen face
will stare at those who pass.
Is this desire wrong?
Am I a fool to ask?
It makes me rich to think of love—
thus, I write my song.

 

Poem © 2018 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
   
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Five Measures

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~~ 1 ~~
Inch by inch
she measures her progress—
lame pilgrim.
 
~~ 2 ~~
 
her sole companions—
some rusty buckwheat blossoms
measuring the way
 
~~ 3 ~~
 
measuring a life
in coffee spoons or shadows—
a few scant ounces
 
~~ 4 ~~
 
Leaving the highway,
she takes the little side road,
still eyeing the map.
 
~~ 5 ~~
 
between wing and beak—
perhaps the width of a song,
the length of a breath

 
© 2013 by Magical Mystical Teacher
 
 
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