I
guitar and piano
charms on a line of silver that hangs my neck
in memory’s noose
gentle torture of photo frame forensics
her songs sealed in the wood
she presided over the assembly of head
head and home
head and hope
presided
guided
round and round
her voice still tries
wants to firm hope’s palings
I don’t need more splinters
round and round
II
that voice
grips like a hawk
drops me in a garden they haven’t
concreted over yet
leaves pick up her tune
and I tickle the angel on a grass stalk
no where near enough angels
powers dominions thrones
to stop the turning
secondhands sweep faster
III
there are no reasons why I loved him
round and round
grease licks rotors
try, they try
but so much blood
knows better
TWO MORE BRITISH SERVICE PERSONNEL DIED TODAY IN SOUTHERN AFGHANISTAN
Politicians choke on the aaaannmmmm rhyme
RELATIVES HAVE BEEN INFORMED
no reasons why I loved him
clouds, round and round
the mandrel, round and round
IV
red purple used to make me think
mulberries –
“fucking freak” -
the chain’s silver is so tight -
don’t let them make me play hangman
singing as she turns her fucking red purple wheel
voice keens up
and down
like
a hawk’s soul
circling a prayer
kjaug2109
