The American Poetry Review

FOUR POEMS

Poem Beginning to Sound

Myself as echo, failed synonym
Disappeared music returns to my father’s house
playing against a white painter’s cloth nailed to the wall

(a flag was waving distantly)
(the perimeter wet with flowers)

Like a child burying favorite words in the sandboxI filled the undying year with tasks(I keep atPlanting fingers in the gaps between linesI wrote notes into an openingfor he who departed in color, I knew only lightly

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