Friday, June 20, 2014

poem || Raymond Farr

The Lie We Confront

& by story it is meant—

We are trapped like rats
In the limelight of the Bay House Theater

& knocking out Time’s teeth
On a baby grand piano

We are seven minutes
Later than usual

& running behind
We pause

& a lightning bolt hits us

& countries not faces
Get hawked by condolences

A poem, we insist, must always insist upon itself
Is the lie we confront in the back of our Saab

Weeping like men
In little girl masks

We dreamed we heard a sensible tale
That we staged it at midnight

But all we remember is
A fire caught fire in one little chair

& one was the Bronx
A blue cow, sd someone in church

We never relent though
Or we relent very little

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