The harp strung with the hair of the lover drowned in the lake
the harp whose bracken hide and broken pillar fossilize on the bank
the harp whose box and board fill with mud
the harp of the survivor whose mouth fills with mud
the harp of the living sister
the harp strung with the meat of the child versus
the harp strung with the milk of the mother
the harp fingered versus the harp mouthed, loose liars
the harps whose cold shoulders are made from the scapulae of the drowned
the harp strung with the heart strings of the whole brood
the harp who weeps on the wrong occasions
the harp with the face of a woman and her talons on the branch
the harp that dangles an angel
the harp that tweaks an atmosphere
the harp strung with duckweed
the harp both the coffin and its dead
the harp spitting
the harp spitting
the harp spitting
each name
Author: dpafunda
Take a Vow
The vaulted ceiling takes its vow
the vane and shaft take their vow
the pulp and pulpit take their vow
the puppets in their poppet show
their pony show their horse and
puppy show their book and box
take the vow.
The mascara on its cheek takes a vow
the musket in its memories takes a vow
a long narrow shotgun apartment takes
a part a vow.
Tulle Belt
The right tulle for the jaw
the tulle preventing the latch
the tulle forging a jet-black horse’s bridle
the tulle taking its time
the tulle top and then bottom
the tulle bottom and then top
the tulle by the yard and its gates wide
the tulle frothing around the pick-up sticks
the tulle pinned up
the tulle billowed and billowing
the tulle a pillow for the drowned
the tulle ungovernable anywhere but a vacuum
the tulle ungovernable even in a vacuum
the tulle taking its time in the saddle
the tulle taking its time at the altar
the tulle taking its time around the lid
the tulle taking its time tying the knot
the tulle taking its time in front of the mirror
and behind the mirror
and behind
Desert Aisle
The aisle lists and grows oily
the aisle slips on its own lino
the aisle ravels in its own stiff carpet fibers
the aisle splits the levers from the gears
the aisle swans its frothy edges
the aisle weeps roses and chrysanthemums
the aisle lets go its thighs and lilac tumbles
the aisle softens as salt water collects in its planks
the aisle seems to float, to rise and settle
the aisle wears a cloak of red a cloak of white a cloak
the aisle wears a black look and flexes its pillars
the aisle runs between velvet locks
the aisle gathers spooks
the aisle swells with spook baggage
the aisle admits the party one at a time
the aisle spits them all out at once
the aisle keeps a list and
lists in memory
Sloe Train
The train crawls thick with refuse
the train slops lace in butcher’s juice
the train snags tin lids and eye patches
the train soaks up a whale’s tear
the train aflame scorches the gusset
the train hooks over the rafter in the barn
the train waits with its tail in its mouth
the train clutters with leaves and pearls
the train leaves a trail of mucin and wine
the train tucks in the witches tit
the train swaddles the newborn bitch
the train strains and strains and through it
drips one
pitchy
drop