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Jan 152010
 

by John Williams


I look best in these judgments

worn daily like starched, ironed shirts.

We have painstakingly prepared our expectations

all the while knowing the parade would miss us.


You look best in my judgments

and I feel most naked beneath yours.

Entwined naked limbs, moist in judgment.

Poems written from a bird’s eye view

of things requiring careful inspection.


 So much simpler to judge

and be judged

when removed from luminescence


but expecting and waiting,

eyes open, hungry,

nonetheless.