I am fighting off the loneliness
which punches like the wind
cutting across The Ohio
my daughters are baking snickerdoodles
while I am 
following some portal
that is mine alone to
crawl through
joy and rage are dropping from the clouds 
as always
lust and sacrifice are raking my skin
and I have consented to let whatever will be
as if it didn’t matter
but yesterday?
yesterday palm leaves were my street theater
and they felt so luminous
in the sun
and with the wine …
I was immortal
Today is monday
holy monday
and none are rushing to assemble my dinner table
or wipe my tears with a warm cloth
or kiss me good-night
or simply sit beside me
it’s just me
holy week
and this unyielding wind
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