Tell me a story, and I'll chaperone your lies.
Make sentences as sparse as desert rain.
I'll record your every breath mark that inclines to words
to capture as if stains on spaces of these staves.
When you sing words, remind them
to connect. Just as an insistent darkness
may trespass on the dusk as if to quell
lark tunes that reverberate escape.
Bring home the state of who were were
as we held still within this place
we did not make or name, but lived
resisting any urge to shift away.
And now the dovetailing of lifelines
capture what an innocent might believe
amid the rubble and the rumors
and the lines laced into fiction to adore..
Sheila E. Murphy
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