Sunday, August 10, 2014

Orchestral Brass

Orchestral Brass

It's hollow and long
and burnished in the late sun
of oratory.

I no longer can
purse my chapped lips despite hope
and our sharper skills
so I leave quartets
to others still able as
I once certainly
was. All is holy.
You asked and I so assert
as if that mattered,

not that it still does.

‎August ‎10, ‎2014 8:20 PM

This poem spins off of work by Iren Toh of Singapore. Find her poem on her blog, Orange Is A Fruit

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