The Receiver.

Sleep is a saucer
Dawn is as clear
As water on the moon.
Only my eyes look down
On a series of solitude;
They took care of the others
With sticks of dynamite
And a leer in the back of their throats.

And they left me smiling
Hope like wallpaper
Torn from the back of
A dying cow.

Does it matter
As long as I'm alive
In a glass oven
Warm as the snow
All around me?

I asked them that
But they just cried
And spewed my lies
Back into the gentle curve
Of my face,
Into my clear eyes.

by Jacques du Lumerie

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