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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