Lift away lurk and let lowbrow breathe. . .
Language has lingered into slow scents: a library’s
mottle-storming dust, cupcake breath,
inked leather. A luna moth left too long.
Nights so interminable can last years.
Cradled between wheedle and wheel,
watermark and watchtower wait in the dark,
Quietly bedded close, wetnurse went ahead:
she kisses welterweight without ceasing. Ever
breaching, whale meets westerly skin to skin,
and wetly, wetly (damp, dank, moist
in this desiccant dwelling) loves well-worn.
Worn well or by much use, o hackneyed thumb,
seek me, thin as water’s moment
and still undefined. A shift has begotten
a transient beam. Quick, unload the seam.
Note: When a book is closed, each word spends a great deal of time in private intercourse with the word on a facing page. I cracked Websters Collegiate 10th Edition just enough almost to catch them in the act.
from Tender the Maker
First appeared in Alehouse Review