They spin like nonsense

and come apart. Men talked

to her at an angle,

thin as reflections during the afternoon.

The blistered drums deprive the momentum

of its comic inertia. A door shuts

and disappears; invisible, innocent,

always a wall.

___

William Benton received his early training in music, and worked as a jazz musician before becoming a writer.  He is the author of several books of poetry, including Marmalade, Normal Meanings, Eye La View, Birds, and The Bell Poems.  His poetry has been published in The New Yorker, The Paris Review, Open City, and other magazines.  He is also the author of Exchanging Hats, a book on the paintings of Elizabeth Bishop, and a novel, Madly.  He lives in New York City.

Posted by Leif. View all posts by Leif
Tuesday, April 12th, 2016 8:34 pm
Categories: Archives, Issue 9.4, Poetry