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Matt Hart

Poem Where Something Incredible Crashes


You in your flowerbed beautifully seeming

Or oft bent over a thank you half lost

There’s a bark in my Bauhaus      Every minute

you’re a skylark      Every minute I’m winging


my euphonium song      A concrete existence

made yesterday special      Somebody saying

finches ever after      bones in my t-shirt

and Ohio’s white blossoms      Don’t try to make a big thing


of hatchlings, or crush us you will with your ass

in the air-conditioner, a feather falling loose from your hair

in the tree      This morning I feel like a nectarine

in all its ripeness, because out the window, it’s 4AM, not green


And I can hear in the sky a plane full of Everymen

bespeaking you a meadow      echo, pterodactyl, tango or waltz

Why am I awake      Because I couldn’t sleep

to hip-hop’s rising soundtrack and all the many


neighborhood’s citizens on patrol

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