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Second Movement of the Poulenc

Hormones and hammock sweeten with age, the theory goes.
I'm there already, jargon cabinet closed to new contenders,
And the yellow half of African daisies along 24th and Lincoln
More than mildly entertains me.

This falsetto melds with eloquence awhile,
Or I am in my sleep, and sleep with you
I might, I have, I will. You were not present
During the performance. Tossed bouquets excepted,

I leaned on future vision that included blond and change
Of sweet, that branded Manitoba with the saying
Vite! to show the urgency of blooms,
The wincing of reflected light,

The diaristic modesty incurred by memory
In front of people who confine their lives
To scars, you were there
Even before we met, I played, and you were half

Imagined in the silk of intervals as planned
As they occurred within
My grasp, the seeds tossed into
Relief after the duties of the castaways.


Conviction, confection, convivial engrossed few
Pairs of levitation birds with shimmer, birds with long,
Elaborate carnubial wax potions lacking in
Caribbean endorsements, listen to the crew
Be dangled, framed and limiting for better
Verse to loosen how la madre soaks into
Our lives, defines our lives, persuades
An unconditional capacity to tone
The color wheel's all-blue incipience,
The reach of eyes, the scintillating
Everlast, the sown glow of delivered
Face practiced, shattered, then retained /
Reclaimed, as saturation paves some voyage
Tacit as plumed lorikeet and fashioned thus



two poems

sheila murphy