What Remains, Remains
Stricken with 'arrhythmia',
or so my doctor do say, which is
the name of an ancient queen, Ethiopian,
first century, leading caravansary into
dunes and what remains undisclosed
beyond weighted horizon,
to Her I yield my heart no
matter its many loans overdue.
Here is my trifle then in
earnest, a release.
Call in the priest
whose ancient hand's
most unsteady,
a lifetime of withholding.
I remain for the moment free.
Between St. Marks and the horizon my fingers still work.
poem by Warren Falcon
Added by Poetry Lover
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