She bows her nose
the whole day long.
(I think it’s ‘she’ –
I could be wrong.)
She floats in on
an orange cloud
cribbed from the dawn.
She plays as loud
as it will take
to undermine
whatever’s fake
in the design
I bring that day
to living.
She brings a sway –
a giving –
to each tune.
Her news,
this June,
is blues.
Low and sad –
long – legato.
A little mad –
warm vibrato.
.
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