Ant Smith
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Poetry

Empty Pride

Not with fingers but brutish hands, we shape
Our Aphrodite at the waterhole
Repeatedly copying past mistakes
Enrapture wraps us in a deathly hold

Not with words but with gloating grunts, we sing
Vainglories and conceits discordantly
couter et rpter our love brings
Al coda, each to each, and you to me

Not with silks but with stainless strings, we knit
Folly and bricks become an edifice
We are unique only in bit by bit
And yet the essential us, will still persist

Not withstanding all othat, we can, believe
That something new we two will still conceive


Poetry