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Saturday 13 October 2012

John Swain

The Inside of a Jar

End of the wilderness
at our cross purpose,
this scabrous city.
The farther fluid fathering sky
let chaotic waters
pressure the stones into law.
And all of the sons became his executioner
and all of the daughters were born widows.
I laid in the place
where the bones were removed
from both the fallen animal and its ground.
The lock of this altar
provided your face with an eye
of blue natron,
I tasted its taste
like the inside of a broken jar
I could not enter
or decipher its meaning.

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