I cry fluently in your language
I cloister modesty as if it were reciprocal
I leave work in my psyche constantly undone
I limit fingerings to the literature of the flute
I remain a fixture amid a cappella fortunes
I pay per frugal integer renouncing waste
I limit my enjoyment to deciduous remainders
I pay taxes to the tune of homely homonyms
I retrace your steps and dance in them
I translate slippers into languages of the classics
I tempt Greek and Latin in my sleep
I herald quietude in visual dimensions
I search and replace continents with states of mind
I applaud contingent acts of God for being archetypes
Sheila E. Murphy
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