shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

Liz Dolan

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Under A Cloud of Unknowing

we baked dark bread with seeded crusts
and pitted silky black olives

We hoped for good fortune
to be good people believed the spirea
sprouted a thousand live spiders

We busied ourselves wetting the lips of the leper
teaching the ignorant not knowing we were the ignorant
dervishes whirling in a sea of meaningless doing
our lives leaching.

Still we listened to the old woman
ice skating on a roast's rib bones tied to her boots with waxed twine,
to the crook-back man biking o'er the waves

Did we really see him?

We sought a pure life by the sea whose haughty white manes
galloped to the shore washing our footprints away
without a trace.