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The Condtion 8

 

no gabriel hounds howling

no scent for the hunt whisper

this quietly it’s you’re first

time in a car unbaptized but

cherished I stood on an altar

I held you in my arms no one

noticed the words no one

wanted a sermon they leave

footprints in solid rock this is

a requiem not lore there’s nothing

but memory behind the closed

door I shift and I shiver I walk

home too late I stand on street corners

and will you to wake there’s a pageant

approaching there’s a rosetta stone

to unlock when I stand I get dizzy

when I fall all I’ll have is my sleep

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About michaeleganpoetry

Liverpool based poet and editor. I have had four pamphlets of poetry published, most recently After Stikklestad (Knives, Forks and Spoons Press, 2010). Penned in the Margins published my first collection, Steak & Stations, in 2010.

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