We should have shoveled
In the middle of the night
Or sprinkled fresh salt on the deck
At the point we understood
When the white stuff wasn't going to stop
We might have saved outselves the huff and puff
With the daily grind
Paved in broad day light
Songs to Jonannes part III by Mina Loy from The Lost Lunar Baedeker
We might have coupled
In the bed-ridden monopoly of a moment
Or broken flesh with one another
At the profane communion table
Where wine is spill'd on promiscuous lips
We might have given birth to a butterfly
With the daily news
Printed in blood on its wings
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