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| Lament for the Littlest
Fellow |
| Edith L. Tiempo |
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| Republic Period |
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The littlest fellow
was a marmoset.
He held the bars and blinked his old
man's eyes.
You said he knew us and took my arm and
set
My fingers around the bars with coaxing
mimicries
Of squeak and twitter. "Now he
thinks you are
Another marmoset in a cage." A proud
denial
Set you to laughing, shutting back a
question far
Into my mind, something enormous and
final.
The question was unasked but there is an
answer.
Sometimes in your sleeping face upon the
pillow,
I would catch our own little truant
unaware;
He had fled from our pain and the dark
room of our rage,
But I would snatch him back from
yesterday and tomorrow.
You wake, and I bruise my hands on the
living cage. |
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