Lost Things

Lost Things

 

The soul of Iscariot
Gropes in a maze of darkness,
Dazed with the heat of hell’s blaze,
Ever bound,
As by water the treasures laid
At the ocean’s bed,
As love when you catch your man
In the act, upon the maid,
As her virginity, once her innocence
And her hymen he stabbed,
As a Chinese man in a crowd
Of Chinese men in Beijing,
As one voice in a raucous mob,
As a match fixed against your team,
As a duel against a better rival,
As a rear opportunity unprepared for,
As a mad man’s mind,
As meaning when words are set in riddles,
As Eden’s Garden,
As Alice in Wonderland,
As a pin in a hay stack,
As planes over the Bermuda Triangle,
As an astronaut severed from his spaceship,
Floating in his spacesuit, drifting out of reach,
As my daughter’s pencil
– Never found,
Like Grandma’s lost youth.


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