The Announcement
A bird came to see me once, a talking magpie
that said, This will happen—
and I didn’t so much agree as think,
why me? It was arbitrary, as far as I could see. Ordinary—being at hand and being
asked to do whatever needs doing. Steadfast
as a tattoo that can’t be washed off.
A castle that isn’t mine reminds me that this
was not my idea, especially considering
how inevitable death is, the way it falls
like a cascading drape from the waist
to the floor, a soft door . . .
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