Caroline Davidson

Una Corda


            Work while you can,
            his hopeless spirit thrived to him to say
            along those treacherous coasts.
                      -John Berryman


Watch the ferries leave
vulgar bells
chant   off with my livery
           off with my liver

Wade awake,
I have become obsessed with variable keys
and the wrong things to say to a person.

No anchors. No anchors. No anchors

Sentenced to more
years debased.

Go forth and dribble resin
neatly across my mouth.

The Black Sea reflex
turns away from bass
cliffs. Go ahead
and touch your
chord.

I'll wait for anyone to finish playing, then paddle out
land in
overstated strokes.

How clean
the coasts
can act.



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