Husbands, Paint
The music you used to listen to just sounds thin nowWhat's happened to me?
It's like a basement recording; I'm waiting for the filling-out
pump through my ears and enthuse me
I want that wave of joy
Thin girl
thin girl with a front shock of hair, so pretty that
you've seen on a man before, now who was he?
Oh yes.
Your husband.
I love some husbands
Some women have nice husbands, they really do
Funny, the point when a man becomes a husband
Does he stagger as the label is shot onto him?
Slam of the prayerbook and ceremony's done
now here's your title
peck peck on the cheek
Does he stagger? Weight of a title,
can't escape the title, if
I were slammed,
I can't take titles that turn up one day and can't be ripped off
even for a cigarette break
Deafness can't be ripped off for a cigarette break,
one-armedness and
maybe having too many cavities in your teeth, these
are things we cannot change.
And they bury us.
But.
He'll get married someday,
so I will just smile, it
will be so wonderful.
Pair of panpipes on a purple yarn,
the shade indeterminate,
a white peely bookcase with some nails
(that's where they're hanging from)
Anyway the pipes hide things like
you hide things like
pipes have fronts and pretty paint and
maybe pipes are solid through and through but
You are pretty paint, pretty paint pretty paint pretty paint, pretty paint
Poetry by bluebackpack
Read 799 times
Written on 2012-02-21 at 03:33
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Brian Oarr |
