Others

Old lovers (where hurt still lives)

have fashioned lives meant for myself (in dreams)

have constructed dynasties and web-pages and

lived abroad.

Old friends with fame-stained fingertips and

lips lapping a chorus of applause are living more life

than most (me)

Old failure looks at her child and thinks I have not failed

But anyone can birth

Old failure looks at her lover and thinks

anyone can trick love into sitting in

Those others are alive and conquering space

My tears

if they would come

would answer.

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