Come too fully armed
For their everyday occurrences.
The bloom of the bruise that beats the mind
Should not so surely march
Upon the stomach and the soul.
But the standards of hope
In being raised must expect occasionally
To flag.
The body must accept the world;
Green skin clutches no claim on facts.
And a faith in freedom of the self
Must grant equal rights
To others’ choices in their wheeling lives
If love is to ever touch on love.
10 October 2003
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