"the sour note
of the unrolled tongue long as his breath can hold it..."
More Perihelion:
BobSward's Writer's Friendship Series
Aquick list to poets featured in this issue:
They said no rain
They said no and it didn’t—
jackhammers and shovels bit the street,
bright leaves glistened with blonde streamers.
They said no
but the basement steps
of the boarded up rowhouse,
clapboard,
thunderclap of the finger and thumb
cocked like a pistol.
It went against they, nay-sayers—
“The day will break.”
“Briefest of cloudcover.”
They said no rain in the basement steps,
the round like a nail
through the fat of the palm held up to shield.
They said no suspect ran the steps,
the street.
They said no suspect blew like dirt
into the ramshackle,
hardscrabble shade beyond the line
where the lower intensity,
where the disappear,
where the resurface well after
and by then, which resources?
They said no suspect, but rain.
_______________________________________________________________ Noisemaker
Shadow in the sun’s red _______________________________________________________________
lengthening still, what grey ink
his hand can throw,
she’d given him a noisemaker
unrolls like a sour tongue
in the sun’s red,
lengthening still
the grey ink of his blurry hand,
the sour note
of the unrolled tongue
long as his breath can hold it,
she’d given him shadow,
long as his breath can
throw the blurry note.