Auntie History steals from everyone
She’s Jeffersonian like that
Theft comes for archbishops
And clam diggers
She hides spoons
Under her blouse
“You’re going to lose it
Anyway” she says
But her “marks”
Only hear dogs
Barking far off
Thievery?
Invaluable
Originality?
Non-existent
Of course
She swipes books
And musical scores
Things that speak directly
To her soul—
Its the only way
She knows she has one
Planet of the Blind 