If I watch the sun creep
over an enemy's cropped head,
the inglorious glow
of the thing will never light
him afire as I so deeply wish.
I observe that same light
cresting over the humidity
of my love. All its energy--
bombardier rays breaching
through her and the rest
of the crowd at the same
live moment that sound
becomes melody.
I trace the notes upon
their skins but can never
read the secret messages,
each as untranslatable
to foreign minds
as the next.
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