[Carl Copeland]

FIRST REVISION (a true ghazal this time?)

On Receiving a Last Warning from Self-Storage

My treasure, laid up long ago, is going
to auction for the debt I owe. It’s going …

They cast their lots, divide my garments, strip
the Eden rose that, nursed to grow, is going.

They desecrate my chamber. To the wind
go petals, faces, words—a poem going.

Wisdom would cut its losses? Ah, but gains
soothe less than losses ache, you know, in going.

Open your box, Pandora. Let hope go.
All that we cherish here below is going.

My heart is on the block. You’d have me cope?
The mallet hangs a moment. Going, going …


Edits
S2L2: cared for so > nurtured so > nursed to grow
S5L2: All to the Lethe’s shady flow > All that we cherish here below



On Receiving a Last Warning from iStorage

My treasure, laid up long ago, is going
to auction for the debt I owe. It’s going …

They cast their lots, divide my garments, strip
the Eden rose I nurtured so in growing.

They desecrate my chamber. In the sand,
drift petaled faces and a poem groaning.

Wisdom would cut its losses? Ah, but gains
soothe less than losses ache, you know, in going.

Open your box, Pandora. Let hope go.
Better to drown in Lethe’s flow, unknowing.

My heart is on the block. You’d have me cope?
The mallet hangs a moment. Going, going …