are not borne of the same mother
antagonists
ripping each other's innards
rudimentary
status quo cracking in a pavement narrowing
how many years with a half-full glass
before it's declared empty
quieting eyes shift and dip
misread by convention as
loving
we're always inclined to believe our own lies
a sliver of moon and yucca plants leave
blood on the desert
sandcloud parched transparencies
crawl up a road
limping toward sunrise
--- e b bortz
(published in split w*sky, 2002)
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