Friday, July 26, 2013

Suppose it were Friday lxxii: In the plentiful season

                      A little zipper whine
                      that runs along the
                      convolutes of his ear
                      licking in under every
                      bone like a bad emotion.
                      It could be morning noon
                      midnight the sound never
                      stops. He stands watching
                      a thousand whitecaps go
                      diagonal on the bay.
                      Components of today
                      include a shape asleep on
                      the floor an erased white
                      world the tumblers
                      vibrating in the closet and
                      he brought the wrong
                      book. Alive in a room as

Anne Carson
Red Doc>
  [page 34]
Knopf, 2013©

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