After the Quake

Shaking our skinny limbs

to a frenzied summer beat

you laughed and said we dance

like kids with earth-

quaking feet


Well, when autumn comes

tumbling into winter

when withered leaves

cling like closed fists

to the trees


Well, when I die

I don’t want you to

bury me


Don’t wanna be stowed


Don’t wanna be


Just hollow out my

pretty bones

And breathe into them like

the holy ghost


Play me like a flute

My sinews as if

they are

guitar strings

My vertebrae a xylophone

My body keeps the rhythm

as you sing

Oh, if you deconstruct

my skeleton

 I become

more of everything

My little world

expands, merges

with the stuff

of your dreams


If you must cling,

if you must keep me,

Tuck me in the place

right behind your crooked teeth

let me out in a whistle

or a hum, so soft and sweet

and if it starts to overtake you,

when you whirl and stomp your feet,

swivel hips, flail your arms,

yeah it’s okay to call it grief –

just let it shift shape into something

more all-encompassing

blink your eyes and you will see

you’re just transitioning

into the spring


A song. The title is a stand-in. It’s the name of a collection of short stories by Murakami.

Does there need to be more transition from the first stanza to the second? Thinking about toying with that….








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