Thursday, August 9, 2012

After Creekswimming—The Cemetery by Jeff Phallus

            Flapjacked dusk
    butterburnt undernight
with the last pondwaters frying minnows in mud
        we are yellowmixed palates by the riverrope
swinging over the logdammed still
and d
                    by the watertower
                                              in the moonsilver pines
          dipped in skin
gripped, hung hightight by the wind
                       and yanked to wrinkle
                 we step dripping in leaves
              and tremble

               hands on my neck and strap
           mine deep in the carmine clod
       a kiss that fleds the owl
          from the hollowshorn tractor
            hulking, dead, smallshelled-side
          below slant of the woodplanked whistlebridge
                           a swooping soon
                  which burbles and croaks among the wheelskippingstones,
           and dips and butts its beak into our mouths
           shatters our teeth with limestone gums
            until we choke and gasp at featherheadbucking
              and flurries, flies, carries our breath away
             clutched in orange hindly feet
        and walking home
      wet hair
           flapping back,
cold hands creaking the hot night’s shutters with a crickety tremble that spanks our sin,
I rest quimbelling
    nightsilence cymbaling
   flung wetbacked against embattled stones
         with a hotbreath wracking and pulled off the shelf.

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