Her Three Untimely Swings
It feels to me that I am here,
In a candelabrum, in a sugar bowl- swimming around,
Looking out at the distortions of the dinner
Guests swimming like flies all around the caesuras of death
Which has them surrounded and out manned:
But for awhile they glow like goldfish in the midway of the greatest
State in all of America:
They glow like the fulcrum of Halloween, and they sing outside
Of the schoolyards and into churches,
Passing around:
Until they spill their own ways into monuments and dog tracks,
Until their particular unction takes hold
And they become fully developed the same way as metamorphosis
Or evaporation,
And the fingerprints you left on them like a lover’s evidence,
Disappear, or linger: and it is their shoulders that disappear
With their last names or whatever; while another
Thing even more lovelier than them gets up to
Bat at the plate of your breast work to take her three untimely
Swings.
poem by Bret R. Crabrooke
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
