Friday, February 28, 2014

Of All the Days Crowding at the Exit


Come out come out—you yawn—I call!
There is an hour called dawn the dusty
Ennui of a washboard gravel road the solar
Tedium of insects humming shrilly and tepid
Light of the long summer watching us from all
Our bedroom mirrors come out come out—
You yawn—I call! there is an hour called noon
Gentle beneath a sugar maple where shade
Kneels like a preacher in a powder blue suit
Erect a stone to us! erect a stone to silence!
You are here again bringing the season
Of a breeze just a little before cool evening
Perfumes your neck your damp forehead
The shadow of a bird falls across your face

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