Gag the nightingale Bruise the rose Tear petals away Wherever flowers grow. Last night in a dream I slept with my mother, Then he woke me The stranger My ten-dollar lover. A slash of the moon Lay between us Like a cool silver river, And soon we were adrift In pools so far away I saw over his shoulder My mother could no longer Tread the flow.

Published in the 1997-09-12 issue: View Contents
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