Michelle Lerner
The poet floating
or what is underneath a cloud
for Maureen Owen
word-happy color-singed poet
hears thrumming under every texture
corduroy in half-time, damask in three-four
satin is cymbal tremors
like lemon rinds cut in spirals and placed on porcelain
with rose petals nearby
electric sometimes, sometimes in half-tones
dialing by pulse so you can hear the chic-chic-chic of the eight as it goes by
(does anyone under 20 even know what that means?)
sand dunes, I think I saw sand dunes
as I floated by
telephone to my ear, reception sporadic
just when I think you have answeredthe bars disappear.
Bio
I live in NJ, am a lawyer, received an MFA from the New School, and have published in various journals and anthologies.