BY JAN HAAG
DIALOGUE IN BANARAS
4-2-00
Think about this, my dear.
I can't think very
clearly.
Suddenly you hear...
Hear what, my dear?
Is it
the wind you hear?
I think it is fear
crying in bastions, in
towers.
Cowering with fear, my dear?
Whose fear, my dear?
The
river flows with tears,
the sun glints as grains of sand.
Whose
tears, by dear?
The grit in the wind blows.
I am afraid, I
cower.
Walk the steps, my dear.
I step into the river
and
die -
As smoke toward the sky.
Copyright © 2000 Jan Haag
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Jan Haag may be reached via e-mail: jhaag@u.washington.edu
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