by Michael R. Burch
I married someone else’s fantasy;
I loved her for her heart’s sake, and for mine.
And in the dark I danced — slight, Chaplinesque —
the undiscerning ones, that in the glow
Disfigured to my soul, I could not lose
another of life’s odd dichotomies,
as pale, as enigmatic. White, or black?
Copyright © 2020 by Michael R. Burch