Friday, May 31, 2013

Ploughshare


Epicure.

I could not face it. In rural life one
doesn't necessarily see a piano all that often
and to see one so forlorn and neglected
and laid in a field to go to seed
was too much to bare
and so secretly I made plans
to harvest the black hulk
where it hid along the spinney
coppiced by nameless and gigantic
grasses.

I did not notice it. I did not
notice that the piano was brand new
brand new and wrapped in a clinging film
sealed tight against the elements protected
and elegantly laid. I rolled out the straps
secured the mute omega metal
with bolt and harnessed all to hitch
and winch and enacted my spell
against all gravity.

The human tongue is black lacquer
and the keys are diamond teeth
to tell tales of the sun
luminous kernels
accelerating through nameless
boughs.

At home I found I could
play the piano with ease
never having had a single lesson:

kiss kisss kissss
the bride stripped bare
the frogs are warring
in the leaf green hair
the day a mule
and soft foot rule
and the pads are belching
to the origami school
fishmate bubble belt
kynik's path between
the scylla and charybdis
kiss kisss kissss

ωηξψ 
ψωηξ
ξψωη
ηξψω

ipso
poise

Simonides.