09 April 2012
DIARY, HARU (SPRING)
I break my fingers on the bones of words, bejeweled in the silk dressings of spring air, fragrant and purged of winter. The voluptuous moon has fallen prey to dieting schemes and lost half its weight, in the night enmeshed with the little crowns of stars and soft contours. In the delicate slope of wood where we’ve stood between our doors, my mouth, the desert rose, can’t hum, but these iced and numbed fingers strike the piano chords of a typewriter, the musical instrument of the wordsmith.
Photo by Sally Mann, Candy Cigarette, 1989