MOR BLEU Poem by Karen McCarthy Woolf

—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