September 13, 2008
the little i,
a stubby nothing
shadowed by a looming
darkness. it goes
nowhere without
its cloud – a
reminder of how
it was drawn with
heavy hand and
ruthlessness or maybe
just absentmindedness
and apathy.
who cares.

when the cloud takes
the shape of a heart
drawn quickly, with-
out consideration,
it is heaviest.

the bigger the cloud,
the smaller the stub
shrinks until maybe
one day the cloud
will crush it
down to

Or maybe it will
grow to usurp
the oppressive dot –
trade its stub
for a tall full line,
its burden for two
bold stripes to frame it.
Maybe it will shed
the cloud they so
diligently darkened.


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