Denial
Not often. Not much. Not that inde-
cent thing. Not you. The witness lied.
(Your convoluted alibis. Your plea deal.)
Erasures and revisions lead
to an Egyptian river town. There, facts alien
to your desires drown. Eager deni-
zen, you spoon sky into a bowl and dine
on cloudiness, sink down, lean
back, soothed by the smudged line
connecting want and is. (Your idle
swimmer’s arms. Your wings of lead.)
Published in Dazzle, Jacar Press 2018
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