Mr Piano
Catastrophe kisses the blind man -
is his eye lid tumbling down the stairs,
smacking whispers and gratifying his spine with noise.
What heart would cry out at the sight of a bomb
in this romance?
Grated with hushed fear
and fingers adopting the seat,
I harvest the solitude in your absence
that sucks me like a parched clarinet,
and my quivering wrists fall
in the sharp shadows of yours,
blind man on a typewriter,
man with cruel eyes
that do not run to me
but still flirt my bashful marriage,
my hopeless death
and cause all chaos to fall on my hateful words
of love.
Cynthia Buell Thomas
Fri 2nd Apr 2010 17:14
Fabulous, Marianne. 'your absence that sucks me like a parched clarinet' etc. etc. - so many amazing comparative figures of speech, unexpected verb usage, and internal music throughout with all poetical guns firing. Sorry I missed it last week.