only this river

knows our secrets   our faults

its darkest deep silt


just this world and my

place in it   which no account

of your wars will change


shoulder to shoulder

envious men   abandoned

from their daily grace


for all our wars our

avarice    on mountaintop

I await your mercy


the squirrels on Cape

Cod all wear fisherman’s caps

squirrels on Cape Cod


a heartened prayer

a poppy tune   a pretty

girl comes jogging by


my father’s old shirt

tattered   frayed   finally

fits the errant son

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