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A Private Moment
- Carter Hammett

The poverty of sleeplessness
Overtakes the poet still
He hasn't any money,
He questions his talent
His next movement

Perhaps he should resign himself to
The boredom of servitude
He is knee high above those he commits to
Yet wanders from rent to rent

There is little pause for profundity
This near summer night
W/ basketballs sailing over the fence
And hesitant raccoons outside the
Kitchen window.

Perhaps he'll scramble for bus fare--
One more trip to the suburbs and
The copper wisdom of his infrequent companion
But since his guard is down
Let it be known there is an undulating video
Paused in the machine,
The grease of vicariousness nearby
Bread, cheese and olives to compliment
The sterility of hunger

And if this 38th cigarette were placed
Upside down in the window
Would love seep in beneath the door
Syphon this beacon of discontent
Breathe meaning under the embers of fatigue?

When not entertaining these thoughts
The poet is placing a hand
Where your cheek once sighed
And moaning
No words to call you by.

Carter Hammett is a Toronto Social Worker and Journalist
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