Clay
A shoulder of clay cut with runnels
set to music, round notes, fat plucked
chords sustained in eternal cascade
from the concertina of the spooling Manistee
above Red Bridge, blue blazes worn
smartly by these still, mute sentinels,
their averted gaze twining into
graceful arches that usher us from one
moment to the next, fine capillary
weave stretched over rib of stabbing light
that illuminates slick kaolin veins,
a surgical tent to conceal rending fingers
plunged into the wound, our faces
smeared, the trees thrilling to our howls.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
Clay
A shoulder of clay cut with runnels
set to music, round notes, fat plucked
chords sustained in eternal cascade
from the concertina of the spooling Manistee
above Red Bridge, blue blazes worn
smartly by these still, mute sentinels,
their averted gaze twining into
graceful arches that usher us from one
moment to the next, fine capillary
weave stretched over rib of stabbing light
that illuminates slick kaolin veins,
a surgical tent to conceal rending fingers
plunged into the wound, our faces
smeared, the trees thrilling to our howls.
