Who’s to say?
In a cut glass jar
high on a shelf,
this poem acts as a
powdered panacea
you mix with holy water
on special occasions.
It might be the water,
the occasion, the amount
mixed, the ritual, the weight
of your heart mind, the cumulative
effect, the level of your measure,
a remarkable phase of moon, but
(and it could simply be a placebo)
it seems to do the trick.
Who’s to say?
…
© DLWhite
10/29/23
11:59 pm
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