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Sylvia Plath called it Bell Jar
And wrote of the black
Amnesias of heaven.

Meds take the edge off but
Its as settled as the layers
Of dust on Callisto.

Someone else's Hallelujah
Struggles to rise, bumps
And rustles like a foil balloon
Caught in the updraft
Of a ceiling fan.

Its cerulean ribbon circles;
God's tow rope
With a small brass ring.


This finally took me where it wanted to go I apologize for wearing you out with it.

oh much much better.

Thanks