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Apprentice’s Practice

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Secret powers once sermonized, then lost
To cryptic curse, an incantation s death,
Cast ice across the shadow of your ghost.

My own foul breath speaks malisons beneath
Chapped lips half-closed, not to be overheard
through clicking teeth; my incoherent tongue
Preserves the word in crystals on your beard.

When I was young, I studied your technique,
Your once-endeared rapt prot g who found
That private weakness in your alchemy,
Deep underground your only open wound.

Now all you ll see will be a vacant sky,
Parchment ruined by the folds of discipline,
My cold defiance on its face tattooed.

Your former lineage thins this scented wine,
The last imprudence of my maidenhood,
A draught now mine, and schemes to pass the hours
With moves that could have just as well been yours.

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Written by macheide

28 January 1997 at 2:00 am

Posted in last but not least


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