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Smarie Clay

PIANO GRAND

 

 

The grand piano

falls. It lands, a yawn.

 

Look in & see teeth

of Babylon. Beyond

 

bone, a celestial crux,

a body’s red.

 

Look down

the resting place

 

of fingers. Open

your palm  &   hatchlings

bird.

 

A Poplar drips from the grand

summit; an inverted ear,

 

an epoch with clocks

plump as bridling eyes.

 

 

 

BLACKWOOD

 

 

I am a balcony without a building. I hang

with the amphibious complexion

 

of spring

and all it’s mourners.

 

The dahlias do not stray far

from fingernail’s irretrievable

 

vowels, fenced in

by surfacing teeth.

 

The orange tree takes

back its offerings

 

barrels vanish, shadows

vanish.

 

Somebody left a noose lined

with insects

 

I am a harp without

man I borrow fingers

 

from weather vanes

I will not open ears

 

until rats feast on orange

skins

 

and a noose blooms from a patch

of fall.

 

The dead are dying, I lay

my mandolin down, its mouth

 

stays open. A ladder grows

from the tongue.

 

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