Humming Pebbles, Bitter Pearls

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SIRENS 260-261

The humming pebbles are poised to hear the

lies of youth and love. They cannot stop

themselves. The dying answers are calls, pure,

heroic, lifted high. We are voices from a richer

time. We look to please ourselves in some

golden future.

Between the conquering blazes and the

birdsong at the window is the unseen thing,

unfairly changed, drinking glassfuls of roses and

thinking of tits and lies. An arrival is a hand on

the shoulder. Smiling Egypt is awakened and

ready to receive you. The clock tells our

fortunes and we are held like hostage princes

far from our eastern seas.

A cantor of love rises but has forgotten the

song- we couldn’t hear it anyway, our ears so

stuffed with coins. We put on our coats and

step out into the rain, brooding over answers of

wonder. We are now aloft and bent in rage,

watching for a change in the light. Bitter pearls

drop from the curbs in the street where all the

stores are closed- the doorkeys lost- the owners

have changed.

The fading morning might be of some higher value.