Acts of Union, Nighttime, Jun ’20

Betty, who with her Scotch tongue
New stews could set to boil ladleless,
Sat inhomogenously upon the bus seat. Yes,

Friend, inhomogeneous - for within her made rent
The hoary statistic of gaseous state and without,
On her visage, ruled well-traveled liquid,
Fit to meet whose nature it and she chanced
Upon the highway. Remaining, isn’t it a safevouched
Truth that her length of leg for solids cleared
A new land-grant on this sceptered isle? Then my demonstration 
Its end will take with the accreditation of their unreacting 

Mutual acknowledgment. By mutual we must take to mean
Shared and unforcedly so, and by acknowledgement
We must take to mean that some extension of the whole,
Which other philosophers have called of late the “part,”
The part of another encounters and no conflict arouses. 
The display now comes, highcoats, and your miserable year,

For catch precise by the pupil how sat
Her legs come up at the knee and her arms
Then undercut. How her head tired itself lays
To rest among the limbs’ cradle, and how her
Hair disapproves not but joins in the embrace,
Offering a veil of patience. Here is the triple point
Where coexistence the scarce thing we can assert
Lies and all perturbations, waiting in the wings,
Like mortal assassins their daggers encloak.

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