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Poem of the Day: Clayton T. Michaels

 

PRECIOUS

 

Bring me sackcloth and oleander.

Break out the shotguns.

           We’re going to town.

Changes in the weather

tracked on smoke-streaked yellowed windows

            via crosshatches thumbnail-

                           scratched into their frames.

Silences breed vacuums small enough

            to hide in the hem of a skirt:

I collect the spent matches as proof.

            (so very precious to no one else but me)

Like the granules of salt I tossed over my left shoulder

and several dozen miles worth

                        of broken guitar strings.

There are ashes in the lake.

There are termites in the marrow.

I have aluminum stuck in my teeth.

            (bring me a glass of water and I’ll tell you everything)

 

—from Clayton T. Michaels’ Watermark, Phoenicia Publishing (2010)

 

 

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