Sheila E. Murphy
from Stupefiction
~ 17 ~
Crowded lounges verify
The ink-free
Sheet of page
Pored over by
Witty monks then
Additional scholarly ones
With tact muted
Solidly as cones
Wedged into trumpets
That now quack
Partial surprise until
The alarm sounds
Improvised by heart
Belonging to yesterday’s
Intrusion rendered freely
On a screen
To be remembered~ 19 ~
Slip into hot
Night limping along
These headline antlers
Interrupted by the
Color blue intelligently
Hastened by appearance
Made whole answerable
Triumphant rack until
The wonder tan
Goes slack moon
Trembling planetary look
Of tension bask
Of tension twelve
Or so angels
On the forearm
Cloistered like kin
Of deities estranged