shoot one white snow goose
soaring with ragged black underwings
above your fallow field,
because you could only
carve one remorseful page
at a time,had only
one inner life
whose lacerated artery
you were forced to staunch
with feigned ignorance of your deed
Paradise refuses to
fully embrace you,
the book of forgiveness
will not
for you
be finished
Minutes into
hours into
lifetimes of neglect
can not
it seems
be made up for
in the twilight desire
for return
and renewal
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