When I say who and you say you,
I realize: nothing I can do.
When I say why and you say fate,
I still feel itís myself I hate.
The what and where, the when and how:
Inconsequential details now.
The Three Fates
The Parcae are trying to knit a sweater.
Clothos spins wool but mistakes the amount.
Lachesis, distracted, measures the thread wrong.
Atropos cuts short because she canít count.
They botch their tasks out of boredom or vanity.
Such is the common fate of humanity.
If you have any
thoughts on this poem, David Galef would
be pleased to hear them.