Monday, April 23, 2012

The Bus through Jonesboro, Arkansas

By Matthew Henriksen

Inanimate intimacy in the plural
Couples under their dark covers

The distance between one body and another
An echo chamber against every stone

The distance between lovers in a rock-lashing wave
The solitude of two together under the waters of night

Or the flattened space between two people on a bus 
Talking above the low beams of a few lost trucks

 Seeking their destruction or their portion elsewhere
A road imagined as a slick for words in a discrete stream

 Flawless enamel the tongue slides along
Or skates off into a future illumined within a highway sign

At the lip of revelation comes denouement or slow torturous sleep
Because traveling does not follow music

Only music brings the body down from the sky
The solid body in its partial form

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