Lo Air

The Used Life

And the day was a man
With a beard for a bird feeder
A caved-in spine and a forest for a mouth

And the night was a wave, broken and blue,
A somersault between my knees
Lo air, lips, and two half-parted fingers
A roomful of glass beetles, like three dozen departed souls
Winging their way to freedom
Bellies full of cocktail parties and tailored suits with split-back seams
Spiffy shoes
Oh, how stunning you look!

Smartphones clang-clang like broken champagne
Man and wife bound at the feet, hang by their matching cornstalks till morning
Upper lips never move

And I, on a night of small breasts and sky-high panty lines–
the sounds of the side streets and the fields and the crickets and the softly departing jazz–
I, I reach like a red brook, like a broken charm, like the stalk of a sunflower no one else…

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