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Haiku Free Verse Prosies
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We sit in the Greek temple
crumbling above Poughkeepsie.
The floor is poured cement,
the sky is midnight blue,
and the crescent moon
Diana's bow without an arrow.
Mary lives in a terrible silence.
We pass the candle so she can hear us.
Its fumes burn our noses.
One in deep turmoil,
One in a black pit,
One about to take flight,
One at the edge of a noiseless wood --
We four are not here
to raise a cone of power.
We four are here to dance.
My foot touches her back.
I throb at the crumbs of contact.
I cannot speak to her.
My lover bakes a cake in front of me,
Asking her
What is your bra size
Your bosom is ample
She is a blank shield.
She has been burned before.
She sells us good weed.
She gives me nothing more.
She shoots pool like a river
flowing away from me.
I, in my turn, move from the one who loves me
toward her, and she looks toward Mary, who hears us
with her eyes, and wants
my lover, whose eyes are on me and not on me.
We will dance this dance until we are done.
Frances Donovan
1996
1997
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