god has no memory
unopened teabags
or exactly what
you expect of
any day
oolong or Irish
she says
read it
first
slowly or
what she
wants
is not
to be read
how god
has no memory
& loneliness blinds
steep the bag accordingly
as if to find a blossom
growing at the end
of your finger
tracing her mouth
what answers
will unsay
the seal
Richard Lance Williams
Posted over on More Poetry
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