Four Lack Songs
Alack Alas Hammer to a copper bowl, someone left the light on. Touch against the thin wrist skin, and back again, and back again. Can't find the vein. Alack A Day Stiffing a filigree leaf, ribs align in alternity. Drop me a line, I am leaving— the har-dee-har men come soon. And once they are here, they are. A Daisy Soon the alterations are finished; she mends where fray yields to fringe. Wet thread creaks the slit like chalk on a board. There's no sense closing your ears. Lackadaisical You're just like the other, someone said. I hear you, but where are my shoes? I've looked every where. I've looked high and low and my feet are cold, and bare.
Copyright © 2011 by Susan Stewart. Used with permission of the author.