Good morning, y’all.

I figured I’d start my day reading poems to all the ticks—there’re so many out right now. This one is called “hamburger.” It was originally published in Home Planet News a couple weeks ago.

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Thanks for looking/listening.

All the best,

A.S. Coomer

hamburger

© A.S. Coomer

i’m a harmony at best

a leaky faucet

dripping a bastard’s backbeat

some flesh for my bones to carry like a tune

my bones that click & clink like cheap wooden wind-chimes

my teeth that scrape like rusted spoons

& the heart in my brain breaks

the heart in my chest skips

& i’m left singing these

hard-hearted blues

–

james brown said

never miss the one

you can do whatever you want

but you come with it on the one

& i wonder how much he would’ve fined me

if i had the good fortune of being in his band

they would’ve nicknamed me “hamburger”

from all the ass-chewings i’d’ve gotten

–

i’m not saying i can’t keep time

i’m saying life’s too short to be in a cover band

–

for this solo i’m the whispering breeze

kissing the sweaty crooks behind your knees

september’s last breath inhaled & held

like the best smoke you’ve ever had

–

does the whip-poor-will savor these songs?

would the woodpecker understand the rhythm?

only the hummingbird can rewind the tape

only the owl understands the weight of night

–

we’re an old house still settling

squeaking to ourselves like stairs

reverberating like musicians

getting to know each other

the shifting of the melody

between instruments

how many instruments we all carry

& forget we know how to play

& forget we love

& though our foundation will crack

may the crumble be the rumble of the kick drum

may the echo of our song move others to sing along