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Seeing for a Moment

I thought I was growing wings—
it was a cocoon.
 
I thought, now is the time to step
into the fire—
it was deep water.
 
Eschatology is a word I learned
as a child: the study of Last Things;
 
facing my mirror—no longer young,
  the news—always of death,
  the dogs—rising from sleep and clamoring
     and howling, howling,
 
nevertheless
I see for a moment
that’s not it: it is
the First Things.
 
Word after word
floats through the glass.
Towards me.
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