Make way for the alma mater,
whose warbled notes cling
and clang off the warped
metal chairs of the auditorium.
The procession of bookworms
and widows and snugglebugs
funnel into the open mouth
of the sparrow, full-song.
Mark this moment a success,
a catalyst of ruinous dreams.
The list rattles under the weight
of so many boundless names.
And my father on the sad height,
fiddling with his loose connection,
watching the grains of my face
disappear behind the velvet curtain.
No comments:
Post a Comment