• Vol. 05
  • Chapter 12
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One ricochet of left-handed fate later,
and there I lay, floored in my sort-of-prime,
out for the count – your old unlovely flame.
I slept, wept, and then watched the world grow brighter,
a rivulet to start with, in which better
worlds – exploded long ago, each spasm
a cosmic blip, a beat to a dead rhythm –
coursed along. Twin outcrops eyed each other.
Find peace? Christ, no. Afraid to say I crawled
a little, serpentine, that line of beauty
snaking above me. Only, overawed,
I stopped, lay still and stared. My liberty
put a whole new shine on things. I wonder:
which of these kind stars was I born under?