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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: July 15, 2018

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Submitted: July 15, 2018



I’ve long admired him,
This steely Atlas,
Denying the dark its nightly ambition.

He is like a footman, stiff
With some serious duty.
Trusted, and attentive.

Are we so different, he and I?
He eyes the conic territory
To the front

And to the back
Of his splendid center.
Gaze both ways.

I pursue my own illuminations;
The past and the future
Lie always in the light

Of my useless attention.
How I wish I could limit its reach.
I want a cross section

A liminal lamina
Pitched in the present
Exquisitely flat.

Or if not flat, then only slightly bulged.
Then, I would,
Perceive tomorrow just enough 

To vitalize dreams
And see enough of yesterday
To wisen from crime.

Not this glaring two-way torchlight 
This sapping compound
Of anxiety and regret.

© Copyright 2019 Adilson Smith. All rights reserved.

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