Play the chord
fingers synchronized with musical word
if it could music would
speak her ache and exchange seats
pass the parcel
good children canceling upbringing
she was told early in life
click your heals, come what may
stomach flu for those who try
cucumber eaters reward the beguiled
not everything hot seeks to be mild
she has shorn her hair
she had snipped her tinny heart
a changing in need of firm foothold
women flock together
temptation to condemn grows bold
she wants to say
do not condemn her
because she reminds you of a hated sister
or provoked in her fist toward the sky
some outcry
the cantor of what ifs
rich healed but poor in charity
make do with petitions nobody reads
can you eat paper?
served empty stomachs before bed
you liked her for the very things that tried to kill
a blue jay lands in her hair
she is beholden of magic in mosaic hour
nobody talks to the lax or those who having lived say
i am tired do not stone me for my wish to sleep
they tell us to wake refreshed and give thanks for every day
as the woman with tumors can attest
we never know our last act
but she is unappreciative according to modern science
she has only felt horror in the divulge
show me purpose in this false world she cries
show me meaning on the flat tyres of transport
choking concrete eyelids
she never spoke her own language
she spoke through bandages
swaddling true message
could it be for some this world is too much?
the refuge of the underneath bewitching
thronging temptation far across water
she smells just like your childhood girlfriend
capturing applies in her cotton frock
go back through time
give your place to another
let them pluck the skinned chord
tune the piano with violent glove
close audience’s raptor with honest stare
beyond them and the sweating lights
disrobing in darkness
stirs
a familiar urging retreat
come
bow your striped head
step away in foil
take your now
it is all right
to seek to let go
and skip
senseless below
the surface
TheFeatheredSleep 