Tim Buchanan
Forever Measure
St. Coltrane’s brass tenor sax singin’
an old English folk tune
buttered fluff rolls risin’
chicken and dumplin’s salty broth bein’ stirred by my wife’s hand
saturatin’ our hone with savory seasoned thick air
in the aftermath of my wife’s mouth
givin’ me all the pleasure to be had that evenin’
seemingly everythin’ float fallin’ into a breath easy unfoldin’
movin’ my hand from my lap to write these words
And I will forever measure all moments against it
Page(s) 47
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