Tuesday, December 22, 2020

Funny Loss of Face by Brian Blanchfield

Funny Loss of Face 

Late in the last of the sun all over the wall
across the lot the bordello larks on the ivy vine
visit one another’s resting closets
like boys and men in Taiwanese baths:
anyone could be behind that leaf or must he
prefer sleep to sharing sleep, the overcome one,
flustering, not just anyone, retorts
and have him know, special again only once
the turnkey checks, before the wind top to bottom
as in a movie of itself plays the shuddering
singularity of love, selecting no one
particularly anyway, but all in las peliculas
sit deeper in their popcorn parkas down.
Everyone’s in for the night except
you who had flown all day didn’t want to fall asleep
here I was telling your neck relax your eyes
were going to wake up raw without solution
for lenses, so it was better you find
the little baths they had at home. Why it was
funny I suggested we concoct it from scratch’s hard
to say and whether one of us or which was
good about everything. When you call and
the leaves are brighter red, it’s later, nearer
the sun, and relief is that vibrant.
That you can see already where more doors
were and birds the ropey circuitry
the wall will bare is an occupancy of mine.

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