Sad Interloper

The guitar, unheard, is to be imagined as
Sweet evening is speeding to unfold
Before noon has reached its peak.
The hiccups of time are melding into
The very moment when the subject, arrived,
Forgets the purpose of the journey
Which, is reason, that cannot be remembered.

Flying forward smoky signals,
A tamed beginning with a protruding sternum
Bends to a massive figure.
The fading notes of past instance
Are cease-start inside of a mouth so small
That it must have been formed yesterday.

The song is minor, trembling
Each chord tragic
With forewarning
For the intangible moment before
Life sparks beneath thin threads of hair—
It moves a corpse,
Tenured inside the bowels of her kin.
She wears pigtails,
A patchwork of blues
And a belly of rocks,
Beneath translucent skin.