Thursday, April 4, 2013

The Oracles of Fitzgibbon

You have lingered
overlong in this
abstracted air
portrait of a man in freefall

Linger, linger
little finger

Spoon and knife
croon to wife
shatter, clatter
pitter-patter

The tides ran their fingers
through your tangled hair
lady of the deep
gravity in silver light

Stronger, stronger
rumormonger

Plate and chain and iron bands
hungry men have teeth and hands

Rubber hissing on the street
abrasive to my infant sleep

Harm, charm
car alarm

Goodnight, my dear,
I love to hear
Your voice at night
By firelight


Behold the pride
of the edifice
at the moment of collapse

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