Poetry

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An Accountant's Hamlet

My Horatio,

ever practical;

you stay, by will alone,

unconcerned by ghosts

of what should have been.

A Magic If

If you were a caterpillar,

you would fold

inward, inside;

drop your skin

to the bottom

like a robe, 

finally private 

and naked.

And you would digest yourself....

Rodeway Inn

Gray on gray, the large mirror gathers shapes

in its frame, settling into a dark composition:

Rodeway Inn. The familiar motel room design

fulfills its function: to isolate, to mimic comfort

with its illusion of privacy.