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Feb 272010
 

by Lois Bassen


 
“For silence,” he’d put a pearl

in each ear, “so he could think!”

So I rose up from bed.

It was snowing outside, of course,

in the Alps, after Christmas.

So I walked nude to the window,

opened it; snow fell on me and melted.

Snow obscured the Alps,

and I obscured the snow.

“Witch,” he said,

“unwinding hexagrams,

entangling me.”

“What is far comes near,” I said,

“as time allows.”

He could not hear; he read my lips

and lay down, writing

wave equations with me.