Slip
The
balance of our seesawed lives
is
tipping, tipped
towards
clarity our
hands are
slipping
slipped
Soon one
of us will
and the
other one slip
slide
off, falling to soft grass
sprinkled
lovingly with new glass
Impossible
now to climb back on
the
stronger one alone will sit
in smug
sorry triumph enjoy
the
victory of a hollow throne;
held
together in habit,
a
stubborn, slow rot, till it
too
stumbles, tumbles, over
and the
stronger one struggles,
and
wonders why not ever
what, we
had
not got
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