8.14.2022

beauty gets snatched

Here and there some scrap of beauty gets snatched from this or that: One 
child’s voice rising above the children’s choir. A few wild notes of laughter 
passing through the open window of a passing car. That pink handkerchief 
waved at the parade. The tiny Nile-blue tile broken at the edge of the mosaic 
—all shining accident and awe. And this 
 
last second or two of dreaming 
in which your face 
returns to me completely. Not 
even needing to be, being 
 
so alive again to me. 
 

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