Cleopatra Mathis (2004)
The body became a vessel, the rasping breath
its proof, and before him nothing
but that ocean swamp
he travelled over. His spirit
lofted forth, his voice
a long quavering
when the wind permitted, as if
out there somewhere some god
held the string.
He was carried somewhere else, who knows?
then fell back, found
the diligent old body at his desk.
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