Listen

Poetry: 2002 #8

Listen,

master of my heaving sobs,

lord of the cold compresses on my eyes –

I should renounce you like I have

my every other Sovereign.

Why do I still revere you?

What did I think you would do?

Did I suppose you might act as a mortal,

a mere man,

when it was I, your Oracle,

who pronounced with my own lips

that you are unique among them?

---

Photo by Kristina Tripkovic

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