Bruce Covey |
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Unfulfilled Crossword So bend it happy & reading & sam full of fruit, The quarter on your belly aches to spend, to Draw, to divide & weep. So you clean out The closet & spend your savings on discards— Bowls of shoes & rackets & outcomes & steer, The left breaks ranks & shatters conversation Like a mirror, the last limps clear to the end Of the vast hall, where a golden doorknob Jests. Puzzles? Weaving this lace through The clear square & skip the filled, clear & Skip, clear & skip, until the heart You’ve rendered splats its red across The just functioning beach, one that substitutes As a metaphor for the many, grainy shadow & all. The one that—in all of its glorified swirls— Approximates a stagecoach, tinkling piano Invisible in the foreground, & cash lain To account for it, the one less empty, The cardboard city full of weeds. Tumbling Up through the granite clearing, ribs cascade To inform that someone’s underneath, breathe, Imagine the cumulonimbus storms might Break this territory in half like stale bread & put some marshmallow fluff on it * Not to Where Tapered from the waist, acrylic to shoe, thinking A house isn’t enough a house isn’t big enough, taking Rain & transforming it to sleet, pieces ricocheting Off the shoulders, white reflecting little images a Shattered mirror under chain mail, 12 friends deciding To email all at once, imagining a glistening eye, One that graphs crosswalk’s strategy, blue lights even Bisecting a shadow from the budget up, triangles & rectangles—50s Formica—but asking out on the screen in, A couple of busters tying sheet to lemon lime, refracting Nine love & three remainder, a matter of efficiency level, How carefully inscribed the blackboard’s chalk Myriad advice I’d never believe, or work day shortened Into a couple’s dangling toes, gesturing box’s closure
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