Askew
I only
know one song by heart—
fox-faced
dog with two different colored eyes:
one
amber, the other milky marble
lolling
in its socket.
At night
my heart beats through my ear
like a
tiny fist against the pillow.
Static
before sleep, this one eye
wanders
in and out of this one eye.
How does
it go when love’s the only
note, a
solitary note slowed by swallows
in the
hedgerow, by a child’s fierce
gaze—
nothing is as straight.
Rhythm
is a note slowed. I get home
like I
get what comes after space.
And if I
stood at the edge and put out
my hand— would there be singing.
I ask
you in the music if you hear it:
tires in
slush, horns, this dripping
from
eaves. Slow like the eye in its
orbit.
None of this will align.
i dont see a follow button on your blog, great writing
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