Your Shame
J
James McLain
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Your shame is that I wear it aught—to be Alive.
Knowing what I know — Man, 'I am the child.
But could I envy— you that I must trust.
This sack of soil and it's dust full each bag—
being undistinguished from all the rest.
Remembered once permitted—why it is, 'I am.
e.d.
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