A Little Death That Lingers

Death and the Maiden on the stereo,
the strings as silky, as disturbing as
our virgin thoughts of sex, a little death
that lingers, like a cough, or God. Who lives
without the ghost of this? The yellow glow
of moon and fear, corrupt and sweet as jazz,
the cellist’s attic hobby, horse-hot breath
blown through a reed, the supple notes the sieves
of inhibition, bent/blue/scuffed alone,
no combo and no audience except
the selves, which means that all the tribe howls there,
Franz Schubert and John Coltrane, human bone
stuck through the nose, the cartoon cauldron kept
at boiling point, the meat-smell in the air.

Thomas Zimmerman


Thomas Zimmerman teaches English, directs the Writing Center, and edits The Big Windows Review at Washtenaw Community College, in Ann Arbor, MI. His poems have appeared recently in Blood & Bourbon, Brickplight, and Visceral Uterus. Tom’s website: https://thomaszimmerman.wordpress.com/

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