Country Music
an online journal of poetry
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Matt McBride

 

 

Bushels

 

The sky's one big radio
and I feel as if
there's too much blood in my body.
Even the drivers are in on it
moving in a ragged sort of unison.
If you could split me open
and remove the offal
I would let you
fill me with your Play-doh organs,
let you staple on the felt wings
you made for me.
People have begun to congregate
in front of shops
like the awkward moment in a musical
before everyone starts into song.
Cut me anywhere.
I'll return to the ocean.

 

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