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Spring 2000 - Volume 22, Number 2
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The Only Copy Ever Made
And Dee I still want
Berries in July,
My mind making
Love in the library,
Fear leaking like lyrics
From the corners of my eyes.
I remember once thinking that
The sky could stretch
Forever like my hands.
But when my feet land firm
My legs will give,
And I will lie in liars' beds,
Wanting and waiting
For the spin cycle to end,
Crying at night alone
For the stars unseen by us,
For stars, for stars
That no longer exist
(But are still seen),
Wanting and waiting
To cry for the copies
Made and wasted,
Recycled in bins.
And my mind is still making
Love in the library.
My shoulders shrink
From the cold and the truth,
That in December,
There are no Belgian berries, and Dee,
My eyelids are shivering to see
The stars unseen, the stars
Nonexistant.
In this library with the forever-
Stretching ceilings,
My hands will reach
Until eternity buckles
And infinity gives way,
Permitting my fingers to meet
Those nonexistent makebelieve
Forever-real galaxies,
When my feet will land firm
On stars unseen and in beds unmade,
And until the only copy ever made
Will be the real thing.
-By Carissa DiMargo
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