Sunday Evening (I)

  • Sunday Evening (I)
    Foam, Fabric, Thread, Rice
    if you can match the rhythm
    and the desire,                                                 
    watch the tones sink to a deeper shade,
    sense the diffusions,
    feel the contractions.

    ten feet sunken under,
    cool, worn leather.
    leaning over the sink
    low enough to read the carpet weave.

    sounds molded over form,
    affections reclaimed by text.

    don't make me retell it
    ten times
    last one

    and so will I.