To face the persistent paths,
The route echoes,
Reclaiming your steps, the confidence,
In the mist of a myriad fallings
Is to regain. Then seek. Then fortify.
Of the vowelless pages
Ignoring gold-rushes and rush-hours
above the same old deserts
My own quarantine isle!
Wrapped in night sounds
And promise lists
To lock the unlockable keys.
If I was this hideous instant of loss
I’d wear a necessary mask
Of Paris-made gloss………..