Friday, January 13, 2023

Machiavelli’s muse


Thankful for as much warmth as darknesses afford

they sit between flickering hearth and stone walls


as the lady darns

Outside snow flurries sing


how you are hostages here

They slowly repair their knowledge


of the agonies and strife

joys and communion


as events they may stitch together from

voices in the streets or sightings of departing horses


Enclosed as a bottled essence

each darkness would be equal


were it not for such tales

informed by rags and veils







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