A Horse in Stable
breslin White
Knowing the world is a tiresome task;
life is restricted in all particulars.
When once I want to swim, the next
to be out of a swimsuit. When once I want
to kiss, then to be in a bed’s embrace.
I have no motive, and no crime
has taken place. A dreary let-it-go has
descended upon my shoulders, so like
a shawl over a woman’s. I do not mourn,
but I brood like the devil’s blue self.
A darker grimace has taken possession
of me. I faint from beanstalks high.
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