POETRY
My Arms Aloft
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Two speakers
exchange tanka.
What is coded?

My Arms Aloft

 

I see now that you
Have chosen him—not me—
And I’m left nothing—
Just the August wind and sun
My arms aloft, my head back.

          Cicadas silenced
          Rare-sparked lusts sated by death
          Skins brittle as reeds
          As my heart hollows with him
          Brief rush to the extinction

And so September
Rains and withers memory
Calls deer mice to lodge.
Neither mourn nor regret you,
Seasonal chaff that you are.

          Abandon in shame
          The trees their cloaks, stark exposed
          To burrow root deep
          Or beg as lonely murine
          Its lapse manumitted

Now a mouse, are you?
Who spreads filth in covert night
Harbors ‘neath my bed?
Would that I might sleep at ease
End your gnawing at my dreams.

          False dreams they are which
          Promise peace and winter warm
          When withering calls
          This mouse to lodge, this bed to mount
          Your heart full and arms aloft

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