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Conduct

Bright light steadies
The gaze of those
Whose resolve had landed them there.

A tumultuous whisper in
The palm of a hand
Flung precisely to shoulder’s height.

One note, a command
Begins the unleashing
Of caged dots and lines.

Chaos tempered
While mettle is tested
By plastic and cork and fluid motion.

Silence rings.
Hand raised, steady
And the roar follows like an echo, distorted.

February 13, 2001

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