James Greer
Under the Sun
Now send us your mythologies
That we return unspent. The myth
Of river’s end, of memories
Too solid to be true, of truth.
Ambition, false reward: repent.
Triumphal march into the fire
Of doom awaits your pale desire,
Amanuensis, secret room.
Instead, a wordless valentine.
Throw back the covers, world-at-bed.
Receive an edict from above —
What would in words ourselves entwine —
Set free the boundless acts of love.
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