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The Tower


Emptiness, smothered
by coils of bricks, of stone
old ivy cons by rote it,
as rust, as mud.

Destiny said at
night in low voices only,
emptiness-smothered
by coils of bricks, of stone.

The spirits' din
of clocks, knives, of locks, bones;
lost signs of right, of nobleness
in distant steps
emptiness smothered.