why does everything suddenly seem so small
my hopeless hopes
my finger's breadth
the palm of the martyr
the synonyms and their relationships
once a family
now the solitary vocable
muffled by rain at
the light by the door
why so distant
when I stand under it
why does everything in my anything
my always and my diminishment
last so long
when life is short
what is it that is so tiny
that it needs to be reduplicated
endlessly
this unspoken question that wants
its words
what is it that is so small it fits me
perfectly?
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