Tuesday, July 22, 2008

Steeping me

steeped in it
—in you, in anything—
does it dissolve me?
Dilute me?
I absorb it,
take it in
and it changes me,
takes of me;
I disperse out.
Dunked repeatedly
too many times,
or left too long,
what is left of me?
What is gone out
when the tonic is drunk?
Though bitter at times,
regarded as junk,
with you I find
we make a tea so fine.

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