Friday, September 16, 2011

Call it a coda

You roll up in your stretched out accent
want to take me riding in your syllabic chariot
driving on your round vowels
into your stiff diction landscape
(did you forget darling?)
You ring the bell into a cathedral call
intone invitation with swing and hook
singing a weather of sunshine and breeze
(dearest I hate to bring it up...)
Moving with your skip rope beat
all twitches and tenderness,
double beats of the heart
rhythm taking up flesh for a while
and you want to take me dancing
(sweet, my dear, don't you know?
I'm tone dead, all deaf, can't move
I've got no where to go
I've gotten over you. )

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