Calling back my body, where has it gone? Is it in the kitchen closet, next to the
Or hiding in the stone chimney where so many winters have seen me drawing from
A Last Proud Sighting
My body was here last year.
I saw it every day.
Once, long ago, I saw it coming out of the Mediterranean Sea.
Greek soldiers lounging on their beach towels stood up and saluted its dripping
That must be where I mislaid it.
A last proud sighting before it ran off and left me something else in its place.
My Body Is the Roman Coliseum
I can’t help seeing my body the way tourists look at the Roman Coliseum,
knowing what it used to be like in the days of bread and circuses.
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