BOUGHS
My arms heavy, aching with the time
And fallen at either side
The way that boughs creak and dip,
Heavy with the accumulation
Of the rain.
DIMINUENDO
Such is life,
once promised to be
a big brass band
with all the bells and whistles,
all the songs never played and
now winding down
in ever-increasing
diminuendo
smaller than
the sliver of a fingernail;
slighter than
a flake of dandruff
on the pillow;
lighter than the din of
the throbbing sticky forelegs
of a housefly
rubbing together
just before the last moment
in his month of living
comes to pass.
Bionote
John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
now winding down
in ever-increasing
diminuendo
smaller than
the sliver of a fingernail;
slighter than
a flake of dandruff
on the pillow;
lighter than the din of
the throbbing sticky forelegs
of a housefly
rubbing together
just before the last moment
in his month of living
comes to pass.
Bionote
John Tustin’s poetry has appeared in many disparate literary journals since 2009. fritzware.com/johntustinpoetry contains links to his published poetry online.
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