Ears Heavy, Eyes Shut
What will happen when the last note dies?Who will have the last word?Perhaps the bridge is no longer—was never—a bridge but a cliff.Hand me the thongs.Thongs?You know, those things that pinch other things . . .Will the skyscraper become uninhabitable?Will the tongue become uninhabitable? japonica percheron laburnum bandicoot horned screamerAllas, allas! now may men wepe and crye!we execrate the warning moon adult attention bizy bizy bizy i ms u deficit dissocia-tive gratification i ms material disorder V for violent appetite chronic consumptionideation fatigue warning V for strong language gdnt gdnt lv accelerate the waning—Swa þes middangeard ealra dogra gehwam dreoseð ond fealleð.What will survive?Will anyone?We found her wandering around the neighborhood inher nightgown. She couldn’t remember where she lived.Words fail us.Twilight. Somewhere a chime.Will the guardians swallow their tongues? euphonium timbrels oboe piccolo ukuleleWho will sing the world whole?
Feature Date
- May 23, 2021
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Copyright © 2020 by Diane Beck.
All rights reserved.
Reproduced by Poetry Daily with permission.
Diane Beck is a graduate of the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. She lives between homes where the sky is sunless. Sometimes she is so still she can hear the poem approach, although she may have stolen that, but mostly she is homeless as in no possum, no taters. In fact, she has been known to lip sync “Death of the Butterfly” when no one is listening. Sometimes, she likewise dies. The cat she naps under often hypnotizes her. She sleeps, struggling for breath. Her poems have appeared in Nimrod International Journal and Prairie Schooner. She adores old china and the pale urgency of spring. She has no book, but she once witnessed an elk crash through the woods, come to a sudden stop, look straight at her and snort, his antlers green with decoration, which made her hair stand on end.
Winter 2020
Lincoln, Nebraska
University of Nebraska
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Kwame Dawes
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Ashley Strosnider
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