I am so sorry Czeslaw
I know you won the prize.
Someone stuck a feather
deep inside your
road-side dog.
But it was a gift for me
Probably from a Lady I'll never see.
It was in the space between
Salvation and the damnation and
Pursuing a goal.
In a funny way
Czeslaw
Things started meshing together.
The feather, your words, the song of death
And so I crossed myself with
the feather and
examined its silvery spine in
The light of my lamp.
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