“Each Neighbor Sings of Saddest Songs”

26 Sep
“Each Neighbor Sings of Saddest Songs”
At the dawn of birch-light
at the summit of my terrarium
there’s a sun, aqua-true and blue,
a misunderstood tune for me and you;
each sentry glows his post
past the breakers, the sordid ghost,
he knows of afternoons to blast
in dark carnation casts:
your wolffish chin, your downy insect toes;
lead us miracle to marigold,
to selfish toad, to dripping rocks,
each stings a locust: scorpion of brain,
bark of blisters, son of rain:
but three were left with no place to go
or, rather, no spirit to rest beside;
the tide draws back, our thoughts collide
for only one human experience
under bleachers, and bleached bangs
they hang without us, distant stars.

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