Lo Air

And the day was a man
With a beard for a bird feeder
A caved-in spine and a forest for a mouth

And the night was a wave, broken and blue,
A somersault between my knees
Lo air, lips, and two half-parted fingers
A roomful of glass beetles, like three dozen departed souls
Winging their way to freedom
Bellies full of cocktail parties and tailored suits with split-back seams
Spiffy shoes
Oh, how stunning you look!

Smartphones clang-clang like broken champagne
Man and wife bound at the feet, hang by their matching cornstalks till morning
Upper lips never move

And I, on a night of small breasts and sky-high panty lines–
the sounds of the side streets and the fields and the crickets and the softly departing jazz–
I, I reach like a red brook, like a broken charm, like the stalk of a sunflower no one else can climb
For the year’s end, for a life’s end, for an end to the night and its battered bodies, and its ripped up panties, and its tongues stained with thoughts of don’t tell so-and-so, I can’t break her heart

I reach for the end of days,
I reach for the roots of the tree, for the mountain’s peak, for the skull of the dragon, for the bulldozer, for the machinery of now

And I, sawdust between my legs, cracked like a broken twig, howl from the pit of the last toothless, rheumy-eyed martini:
It’s the end of the world, boys,
Lift up your skirts

43 thoughts on “Lo Air

  1. Articulating the feelings I experience after reading a poem like this can sometimes be a struggle for me…However, if you were to interpret my face and my silence and my breath, I think you would instantly know that you’ve achieved victory here.

    Liked by 3 people

      1. I wish I could find the words to describe what a delight your writing is. We would love it if you’d consider submitting something for publication on Morality Park. It doesn’t have to be brand new either. Feel free to contact me through our submissions page on MP.

        Liked by 1 person

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