Didn't I see you once
in a picture by van der Goes
dressed in robes
kneeling before an infantwith your hands folded
rapt in awe
at what you saw.
Now you are leaning over looking
with that same fervor
at tarnished silver spoons
under a lamp
at a flea market
on the edge of town,
while under the stand
a bold electric fan
spins futile warmth
at our December cold.
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