in death, songs are different--
like hearing them from the
beginning of a tunnel,
from the light that comes
from elsewhere.
they slant off-key, lose their
balance on the stairs, get caught
in the lacy hems of their skirts.
when teeth hit the edge of a step,
that is a song in and of itself.
steam rushes out,
turns everything
to white.
No comments:
Post a Comment