Blackbirdan online journal of literature and the artsFall 2018  Vol. 17 No. 2
an online journal of literature and the arts
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O Felon Heart

What’s that musiche said,
alert always to the undertow,

to the tide interrupted.Who’s sick at heart
he said, wanting me to say no one,

wanting one bodysubject to another
into infinity. What’s that wine

you’re drinkinghe said,
adept at all my mouth wanted to gather.

Why not just saywhat happened
I said, aware my words

were retrograde,and liking
that debased formula, all the power

the tired script of lovestill had to offer.
You know that song, its name,

its testament.You know what rooms
we steal through to hear it now.