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THE ABANDONED HIVE. MUSIC BY BRYAN CURT KOSTORS. TEXT BY MICHELLE BRITTAN. THE ABANDONED HIVE. MUSIC BY BRYAN CURT KOSTORS. TEXT BY MICHELLE BRITTAN. I. ON BECOMING A STATUE. The house is no longer a shelter. The air inside is the same as the air outside. I have. no use. for walls,.
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THE ABANDONED HIVE • MUSIC BY BRYAN CURT KOSTORS • TEXT BY MICHELLE BRITTAN
THE ABANDONED HIVE • MUSIC BY BRYAN CURT KOSTORS • TEXT BY MICHELLE BRITTAN
The house is no longer a shelter. • The air inside is the same as the air outside. • I have • no use • for walls,
My breathe turns into moss, • my eyes follow a leaf
pulling itself • pulling itself • pulling itself
along the sidewalk. • Perhaps the wind will lead it • under the tire • of a car.
Perhaps it will only absorb • the rain and the coming night.
I don’t believe the leaf will settle • below the arch of my foot.
I’m a refuge • to anyone.
I don’t notice • the moment
the • sun’s • heat
At night, • I’m the same color • as the moon.
The bees are gone • but the walls in summer drip honey,
the abandoned hive • waking in heat.
In a dream I hear the drone, • the plaster teeming,
III. ON WAKING WHEN YOU’RE • ALREADY LEAVING
The slide of the bolt and lock, • fingers snapped • at the end of a spell -
your body • walking to the car • under the inscrutable graffiti of the stars -
invisible garland of your green bar of soap • still hanging aromatic in the dim hallway • outside the shower -
the steam retreating to mirror’s oval border, • my face appearing after yours • in the cleared center -
the tiny light of the coffee pot • burning at the back of the kitchen,
the pan you cooked eggs in, • the filigree of yellow along the edge
at the end • of a spell.