Sara Beth Hamry - Serial Poet
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Sara Beth Hamry - Serial Poet |
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Serial Poet Series (1 of 3): a song without a breath Jacques Brel came back from the dead strapped himself to the hull of a boat swept across the cold heart of the ocean walked into a bar still wet with salt face as pale as piano ivory eyes burning bright from pits of ennui hands trembling like a spider’s web that’s snared a fly smelling like smoke, subterranean but rich as butter- still the sea, sharp and sulphurous hair brittle by age and unrest limbs as stiff as leaded pencils feet like tired stones lips like rust-stained paper he sits between a priest and a whore and tries to recall English through a fog of years spent in the grave his head hurts organs crumble teeth gnash one against another he wants to cough but is afraid his larynx will turn to dust the whore feels sorry and orders him a beer the priest asks him how it feels to be like Lazarus but Jacques Brel can only twist his neck, saying: if i could be for only an hour… if i could be for an hour every day… if i could be for just one little hour… before stretching his bloodless lips over grey, gritted teeth in a smile that’s strangely contented. the whore moves to get her coat. the priest laughs. |