20 February 2014

13: WICKS by Daniel Hales

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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