Conspiracy

Here, I am torn between lovers. The first accuses me. It is the second I choose as my God.

 

 Conspiracy –

      What a strange thing

       To say.

       All these echoing accusations

That fight to displace

                                                Like a stone

                                                Tapping ripples

                                                Across the water.

I could sink, say I don’t

                              Understand – run, like

                        You said: treading, splashing

                                    Through green reservoirs,

                        Diving back to that plan.

It must be transparent –

    Somehow I fell straight

                            Through your wheeling

            Embrace. And where

                                    Did I land?

Paris, Valdosta, Calculus III.