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TOPSISIS - Lawrence Bridges

When I'm going, I place my needle

in a channel that pulses vibrations

toward Beethoven. All in with provisions

akin to camping in the backyard in the rain,

my thunder too raucous for pockets or under

hats which I long for when searching for the word

“thunder” - I mean this! Kaboom. The fright

reprieve seconds after the flash hurrying

toward a door: will it cease before sleep?

I lied when I told the nurse it only rains here

after mid-November, except for mountain storms

à la Aspen or Santa Fe, with the glorious cleansing

of trees, railings, and roads. The morning

is clean now as the mind is after a tiff, traffic

lights out as always. Our world is summer

wrapping paper, our colors soak out

and we laugh, arms out like wet scarecrows

unable to smell new rain on dry roads,

languid with the stupor of inoculations

and grief and for young friends who do not

yet know their way, as rain washes even the sweat away.

 

Lawrence Bridges' poetry has appeared in The New Yorker, Poetry, and The Tampa Review. He has published three volumes of poetry: Horses on Drums (Red Hen Press, 2006), Flip Days (Red Hen Press, 2009), and Brownwood (Tupelo Press, 2016). You can find him on IG: @larrybridges

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