'Two Weeks After A Silent Retreat’ by Heather Lanier
How quickly I lose my love
of all things. I nearly flick an ant
off the cliff of an armchair.
But remember, Self,
the week you spent
enveloped in psalms
intoned by monks?
By Wednesday you beheld
a three-balled body
creeping around
the onionskin of your book,
its six teensy too…
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