“Largo,” by Brian Teare

By

Largo


Now the rain

 
Now the seams       put in evening
 
Now the tree       seeming shakes out    
of felt      unfolds cleanly
 
 
If in falling             rain names what it touches
 
If beneath the tree      a dry radius describes
form      steps forward       wearing its suit        of summer’s dust
 
 
A quietus       
 
 
My ear on his chest         where rest hems breath with thread
until      being is everywhere       an edge        a cloth’s
 
periphery pinned with rocks     & we under    
 
 
look up      dry out the light       turn
sleep to costume        Now the sleeves
 
Now clean buttons     to shut our eyes      
 
Now our each seam gleams

 

Brian Teare

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Brian Teare’s second book of poems, Sight Map, was published in March. Read the Rumpus review.


Original poetry published by The Rumpus. More from this author →