Kay Cotton    
THE BLUE GATE for Robbie Burton  
I’ve always wanted to go through there, since I began
a shade darker than a blackbird’s egg blue, the blue to be awake, think blue
gate worn down, weather-beaten, endlessly creaking to know there was more
I know the blue gate’s     about losing my self
a risk I can’t take – full of ambivalence a place away from
envy of those who know the blue gate children forgotten, house
  burning down, would I notice
how else could they go on the way they do never looking back
so deeply in focus. It’s true, the blue gate is a fearful temptation
opens into paradise      always, yes, Now?
but how, why, would I come back could I?


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