in minor notes
[1.b]
Saw the infancy of the b chord when I had pillows under my spine & the doused figure with vine braids for a crown. The features years brought were mixed with the smell of vanilla bean in throat & heels, forbidden to take a step in coordinated company & walls with maps in thinning plea, unintentional & undone by a concrete flame that lighted the only allowed paper hat. Soon paws were discontinued & lids were framed in charred loudness, weakened by a blasphemy of a foot attempt to gain cardboard passages & printing spikes in buttoned florets. In the outward plight, antlers in a regular station held up a wheel & sewed the cracks in the infinite spheres so the azure can blind the weary etching & the creased bells of wailing lilies, in modest soil.
Sarah Edwards’ work is published or forthcoming in Uut Poetry, After the Pause, Sun Lit, Otoliths, Thick Jam, etc. Her tumblr is here.
gobbet 