notes toward an aubade or ending
Say morning bears heavy on the patient glass
Say the eggs are dim, dawn has slowed the milk
Say the baguette tastes of burnt coins, bent hooks
A rent sloop in your hobbled mouth, horizon invisible
Say the quiet is kind, incandescent not aglare
That absence illumes, finds declension
Refer to calx, pumice, the past progessive
Mark the window with its smear of ash
Tomorrow is an oyster in the creel of grief
Hope lies on an axis between gravity and salt
Count south: the compass must return from the sore
What is likely to dance, do not think of it
Undone, the Virgin Mary craved a red balloon
Describe the card game beside her brittle urn
Sinew intact? So swing the good tongue low
Here is the axe: you’ll find it sharp enough.
16 April 2014 10:54 hours
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