Armistice ’82:   (Too Far From) Home

Through the Worlds of my world
will carryi the secret
ofus.   proclamations None.
to others leave contensions of desire:
still   ,bloodred, the
Remembrance of
i’ll wear upon me
sunset over satin   :though this World
translating poppies thinks She understands.And
iwe only we can ever read those petals
that to day and to (-night) dailylove
on hillsides burst

apart 2hundred miles how many
lovers should our trinal love enfold
?   how many flowers breathe the poetryi
send you night
-ly?   all like poppies in a field of roses
grow we
,sacrificing dreams regrets for revelation.
Through the (worlds of my) Worldi
‘ll carry the bloodred secret
of us   till remembrance dawns on everyone
who’s ever slept alone
and poppies wear their fields with less of shame
than roses
comprehend
.

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