Pianola Appearance


Snow suggests itself-
a whisper coming down-
time stops for the journey.

There is patience
in the prayers of the gods.

This moment of falling
in soft song.

A pianola scroll of
white/greyer/blurred dots.

The land of cradles
for a billion pendula.

and there she is…

Pale fire pink,
but where chill has nipped and bit,
cheeks red as a well-skelped arse.

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