[Everyone] a Poem

When everyone has married their everyone,

everyone will be every other one,

taking one great chance on the one who has become their every-thing;

and when little birds do nothing more than smile at grinning roses,

truly not young are their lies that are perfectly afraid of human happenstance.

- and when everyone marries their everyone, every-one will sing,

 every-one will remember that one in every many

 who has made everything for oneself wholly that

 one thing to live for every day;

 and when trees give off nothing more than their lilac-scented sap,

no one else will live the polite way that love has never been privy to.


-from [The Paper Womb II]