hark the lark

the lilac-influenced shell of holy memory
departs from its unscheduled tracks
at nine-fifteen in the morning oh always
in the morning it looks back through the linen curtains
and waves

it continues to wander
meticulously into the interior
of a Grand Canyon valleyscape
and whistles for a tune
the one note

just the one note
and its inevitable dullness

Christopher Mulrooney


View all poems by Christopher Mulrooney