Only to be pinned abruptly down
By the same old words
Now and then it escapes
Only to be pinched by fingers
Back into place on the page
Which always wants to be turned
So little is learned from the words
But that little is the luster
Of a tiny cocoon shaped like a bird
Of something that didn’t make it into the world
The wind wouldn’t have it
And the page said no
Not yet
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