poems by Rena J. Mosteirin

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Sunday, October 24, 2010

Three in Gold and Orange Tones

1
I come inside out of the shower of orange leaves/ their sound is dry
and their sound is falling/ I am a bell

or the sound made by two cut rocks that still fit together
hung from strings: architecture

I am constantly hitting myself in the same place
but everytime it makes a different tone/ so I continue to swing

I am a leaf stuck to the sleeve of a sweatshirt
I am wearing the sweatshirt/ the sweatshirt is wearing the leaf

I am the sweatshirt/ the wearer of the sweatshirt
and the leaf/ I am two orange bells singing to the sun/ two halves of a broken rock

each half needing the air and the strings and the wind and the broken place
to make afternoon music in gold and orange tones

2
and their sound is falling/ I am a bell
I come inside out of the shower of orange leaves/ their sound is dry

hung from strings: architecture
or the sound made by two cut rocks that still fit together

but everytime it makes a different tone/ so I continue to swing.
I am constantly hitting myself in the same place

I am wearing the sweatshirt/ the sweatshirt is wearing the leaf
I am a leaf stuck to the sleeve of the sweatshirt

to make afternoon music in gold and orange tones.
each half needing the air and the strings and the wind and the broken place

3
I come inside out of the shower of orange leaves/ their sound is dry
or the sound made by two cut rocks that still fit together
I am constantly hitting myself in the same place
I am a leaf stuck to the sleeve of a sweatshirt
I am the sweatshirt/ the wearer of the sweatshirt
each half needing the air and the strings and the wind and the broken place

and their sound is falling/ I am a bell
hung from strings: architecture
but everytime it makes a different tone/ so I continue to swing.
I am wearing the sweatshirt/ the sweatshirt is wearing the leaf
and the leaf/ I am two orange bells singing to the sun/ two halves of a broken rock
to make afternoon music in gold and orange tones.

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