Too many things
one must know — so many —
a place on the breath for each? each passing?
(its turning — breath’s inmost
turning, my Love —
for delight — )
*
And another
‘massacre of the innocents.’
And that there is a form
even for that.
*
Breath as
tidal — ardor… fervor… horror… as moon —
*
What comfort?
*
There was a moment
of blessing, calm.
Though it was a pause, a hiatus.
*
‘… then what felt like a whirlwind
had risen up
in me, such that
little was spared.’
*
News of
the unbearable, happening.
Breath saying Now, now.
(Carol Snow)
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