When that deep voice rises from the bottom
of your chest it is like a warning. Do not
attack Cuba, miss out on the fatal shot
in Dallas, observe the holding pattern
of clouds, preserve the secret of your success
behind your chiselled features. Let us learn
the trouble of deep waters and follow the stern
laws of the republic. Let us wear the dress
of sorrow with a certain elegance. It is time
we learned to react to the loss of love.
It’s time for gravity. Let the darkness move
through your voice like gravel, let it climb
into its own echo. Sing to us. Wait
for your cue. Go now, before it’s too late.
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