LIKE ORPHEUS
I whirled
with the lyre
held high.
Or, did I stop
half way and
meditate
in sweat?
No. . . it was
impulsive,
I didn’t pretend
to stumble
dance, or moan of
deals
forever rigged. .
.
just turned too
soon
and with the
spin’s
momentum, heard
the lyre’s
dumb hum in wind
devoid
again of song.
Why couldn’t I
just
go on spinning
if I have to be
so human?
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