Poetry - Dislike

Poetry - Dislike

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© copyright All Rights Reserved Wilson, Richard S.


He looks at me like one who looks
through a crystal
or the air
or nothing.

And then I knew: I was not there
nor in any other part
nor had I ever been nor
would be.

And I became as one who dies
in an epidemic
without identification and is
thrown into
a potter's field.

R. Wilson (trans.)

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