9.18.2020

to finally understand

I’m hoping to be astonished tomorrow 
by I don’t know what: 
not the usual undiscovered bird in the cold 
snowy willows, garishly green and yellow, 
and not my usual death, which I’ve done 
before with Borodin’s music 
used in Kismet, and angels singing 
“Stranger in Paradise,” that sort of thing, 
and not the thousand naked women 
running a marathon in circles around me 
while I swivel on a writerly chair 
keeping an eye on my favorites. 
What could it be, this astonishment, 
but falling into a liquid mirror 
to finally understand that the purpose 
of earth is earth? It’s plain as night. 
She’s willing to sleep with us a little while. 

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