still part 2 of 3 of a work in progress, better than before with a word or two.
* * *
the evening & me, we were washing the day
clean away when the stinging note struck¯
it was one cold eruption from far away
that hummed freezing up as though
from inside the piano chords of my guts,
then it deepened a pitch as an answer wept in,
filling the voice with more voice,
two rocks careening through space¯then
one more howl made it the bellchime of a roar.
it came & went quick, this chorus,
& afterwards I stood still waiting.
for a return; for my laughter feral
yet afraid; for the stone-written day
to be washed away.
KS
|