After you found the second eyelash in your eggs we started looking for them. Greasy black wicks in our scrambled yolks. Maybe the chef was crying about something out back, I say, and begin looking for silvery drops.
You told me once that sometimes during sex you think about the most abstract pieces of a jigsaw puzzle: a cloudless sky, an almost undifferentiated hillside, trees, trees, and more identical trees. Now I think about them, too, the accumulation of tempos once distinct. Running all those laps around the soccer field. I raise another forkful of eggs to my mouth.
(from Tempo Maps)
#
Other poems from
Tempo Maps have appeared in
H_NGM_N, Conduit, Sentence, and
Kenning Journal. His chapbook,
Tempo Maps, Vol. 1, is forthcoming from Ixnay Press. His band, Daniel hales and the frost heaves, have just released their third album,
Contrariwise: Songs from Lewis Carroll's Alice's Adventures in Wonderland and Through the Looking-Glass.
www.thefrostheaves.com
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