O Commingler!

We weren’t built like the others,
were we? Their parts
and partial flows seem to align
so cleanly, so unremarkably,
while we… Watch your step,
and mind the ellipses.
The gift you’ve been given
is meant to be squandered.

My gracious, I’ve never pondered
quite so ponderously before.
Bright wings, jagged sun,
some perverse yearning on the horizon.
Spread your breadth atop my sleep,
O commingler. Surely
we can waste the weakening
on such mild diversions as these.

And, if you please, mistake me
forever for one whose pride
is unlike your own.

-r. miller

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