OTHER MUSIC
Walking in a dry meadow
I found an amputated wing—lyrical and strange,
like a harp whose song is closed to the earth.
I found an amputated wing—lyrical and strange,
like a harp whose song is closed to the earth.
I thought I might take it to Cherubim City,
work for cheap on the back streets,
in the hot houses, build my chops and a reputation.
For a choir I trapped three quail in a basket,
but in the morning I found a snake there by itself,
belly thick as a human heart.
work for cheap on the back streets,
in the hot houses, build my chops and a reputation.
For a choir I trapped three quail in a basket,
but in the morning I found a snake there by itself,
belly thick as a human heart.
Did I squash the snake with a tree limb?—somehow, no.
Once you've wrapped your delicate hand
around a quail, you know the intoxicating struggle
of its hope. There's something fierce
in what the snake knows about this
and something brilliant for the Cherubim—
how exquisite the song of wings,
perfected in the chamber of a snake.
around a quail, you know the intoxicating struggle
of its hope. There's something fierce
in what the snake knows about this
and something brilliant for the Cherubim—
how exquisite the song of wings,
perfected in the chamber of a snake.
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