To Dorothy – Marvin Bell

You are not beautiful, exactly.
You are beautiful, inexactly.
You let a weed grow by the mulberry
and a mulberry grow by the house.
So close, in the personal quiet
of a windy night, it brushes the wall
and sweeps away the day till we sleep.

A child said it, and it seemed true:
“Things that are lost are all equal.”
But it isn’t true. If I lost you,
the air wouldn’t move, nor the tree grow.
Someone would pull the weed, my flower.
The quiet wouldn’t be yours. If I lost you,
I’d have to ask the grass to let me sleep.

– – –

I wish I could write more, but I have a magazine proof to deal with (the magazine I work for goes to print in a few days) and revisions to work on for Keep an Eye on Your Shoes. Which you should go ahead and read anyway. And give thoughts on, because the more helpful critiques I get, the better it will be!

Thanks all!

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