878 Readings | 4 Ratings

–Organ / Plainsong–

empty station wagon by the train tracks, tips a

delicate balance.      he discards the waste, paper indents

           catching on overgrowth, the field’s portmanteau extends

beyond clusters of unripe mulberry,

          pink industrial foam, rorschach blots

he sees her nesting under eaves & soffits, a dried up husk,

         the remainders wrapped in gauze, later, a stream of chemicals

voids the crawlspace, a deserted house, the lake, & tiny

               bubbles clutching the surface, stroke his cheek.

Posted 09/20/09
from "Below, A Slow Ascent"
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