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Riddles are souless?
In them, it is never raining.

Jane Hirshfield

I want to fill riddles with rain,
flip their question marks upsidedown,
use them as ladels,

dipping each soft hook
into the waters spilling over
the walls that have captured

the creature, pale and fierce,
that has four legs in the morning,
two at noon, and three as the clouds,

dark and wet, choke the sun,
beckon the wind, the thunder.
I want to ease the beast’s thirst,

slake its dry tongue,
convince it to leap
from its cage.


4 thoughts on “Human

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