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MOR BLEU
—rushes and there’s no more

a whirl of empty dresses—
in this mudcracked room
palm frond feathers
helicopter
downwards
shallow roots torn
a broken bird
  song explodes
on a frequency of earth and lime
too high to hear

—we haven’t got—
a heart              beat
 
—haven’t got five minutes
a groan of sea
shushes up on shore
 
—rushes and there’s no—
no ha ha ha of music
and radio
the thud of workmen
clatter of hollow poles—scaffolding
a truck in first gear
footsteps
school

an O of bells clang-
   clangs across the river
 
and then the hush
of marble
eyes
unseen
eyes
unopened
      
endlessly

eyes