Man's not a singing animal, his tongue hangs from a wall -- pinch the stone to make a moan from the throat a single note breaks the air so bare and harsh birds die. He's crab-necked from cold, song splits his voice like a lake's ice cracking. His heart's a rock, a metronome, a clock, a foghorn drone of murder. God, curse this self-maimed beast, the least of creatures, rivet his stone with worms. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...LOHENGRIN; PROEM by EMMA LAZARUS ELEGY: THE GHOST WHOSE LIPS WERE WARM; FOR GEOFFREY GORER by EDITH SITWELL HYBRIDS OF WAR: A MORALITY POEM: 1. VIETNAM by KAREN SWENSON THE POOR-HOUSE by SARA TEASDALE LINES TO A BEAUTIFUL AND BUS-RIDING LADY by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS A DREAM, OR THE TYPE OF THE RISING SUN by JEAN ADAMS LAURENCE BLOOMFIELD IN IRELAND: 1. LORD CRASHTON by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |