Statue of Limitations, I

The statue of limitations on how long

she can love him

has run out,

she thinks. She thinks? She thinks:

Beware those who provoke you to write poetry.


She wrote «statue» meant «statute», statue’s better

anyway, more honest to the reality of how limited it is,

this container we live in, slowly dying.


Was there ever a poem that wasn’t about death?

Go away.

Her Italian friend would say,

Past is past, okay? 

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