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Poem for My One-Legged Lover, the Wine Glass, No. 51

Sometimes he prayed,
Sometimes,
He rolled in ashes,
Sometimes, he tried to understand
The moods of rivers.
He knew
He never had
A prior life,
But he kept
Trying to find it.
He knew
He would not have
A future life,
He kept writing
For the future,
Even when he felt
He was not there.