Ghazal for May

A rhombus not exactly a diamond 
means something different from forever.

Offer me a lozenge to quell
this blunt moist cough keeping you awake.

What's your giving style, asks the bureaucracy,
mending fences I neglect to declare. 

I speak in whispers to match cloud
cover covering the noise and pollution.

A sacrament not necessarily 
a sign but some plot intended to give grace.


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