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Sarah Arvio – Ⅰ






Somewhere over in the platonic place

where I was enshrined in my high ideal,

was there a pure depiction of myself


written in water or else on the wall,

a plural entity named for my grief

or named for my excursions into joy,


some Cerberus or trio of Graces

gracing my life with a howl or a dance,

some triangle of me, myself and I,


an altar to an alternating self

alone, alert beside the aqueduct—

an allusion to the trope of Sarah,


aleatory emblem of my all

as wind spit rain through the ancient arches

and cloud faces gleamed in the dark-lit sky.


There was now and then, there was yes and no,

there was gracious and there was also grave,

but was there a place for my gravity,


where the wall and the wind were in myself,

or a continuum of my own self,

graceful Cerberus, cerberean Grace


gravitating toward the heart of a want,

a place to create what I longed to be

–or the planet versus Platonism—


all the faces of my envisaged self,

engraved with weather, my wish and my will,

gravid with “luminous intensity.”