Advising Myself
When the world comes to you muffled
as through a glass darkly –
jubilance, anguish, declined into
faded postcards – remember how,
seventeen, you said
you no longer felt or saw with
the old intensity, and knew
that the flamelight
would not rekindle;
and how Bet scoffed
and refused to believe you.
And how many thousand times,
burning with joy or despair,
you’ve known she was right.
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