learning to walk again, and fly,
and shouldering the crucifix
of one's stupidity
tentative morning - one
limps in and out of luck,
of too-late wisdmn / shutting stable doors
before the poem goes, a Yesenin
horse the rarest shade of pink
among the ruins, what we save,
to tread among them,
gingerly, afraid of breaking,
is painful pleasure, like first days at school
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