#1881 New Author's Lament

I kept moving commas like chairs in a flooded house
certain the water would rise exactly where I stood
each saved version breeding another shadow copy
each margin whispering, 
you should have known sooner

Outside, the dogwood carried on without revision
white petals opening beside the parking lot curb
while I sat arguing with invisible architecture
trying to remember
whether the bridge was broken
or simply unfinished

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