those
fat cheeks, chubby hands,
she
could not know
that
Goebel would give
her
iconic images form.
How
would a novitiate
know
that her concepts
would
draw Nazi wrath
or
carry global hope?
The
coin tossed in the air,
lingers
in liminal space
before
its called, destiny
distended
above the heads
and
tails of probability.
The
Merry Wanderer grips
his
satchel and walks on.
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