Steel fingers
And a wooden mouth,
Two voices,
Six strings,
And always better
At seek than hide.

Are foreign objects,
To shatter
Or shake
With song.

A mere
Seven-hour span
Shows all the ways
For outweighs
Against —
The mathematics of devotion
Are simple.

Hearts and sleeves,
Lips that taste good
As dirt.
Unmeasured lengths
Of spider silk
And strands woven
From moon-spells —
Every offer to cut,

And domestication
Might make a little
Madness —
One eye
On a door,
And the electric
Of anticipation.

But he is always
The resolution
Of these wonderful,
Addictive tensions.


About Emily

I may or may not have: A. Dirt B. Ink C. Paint D. Wool under my fingernails.

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