T.R. HUMMER

Another Horizontal Lyric

The yellow ball stays where the boy has thrown it,
      stalled in the air inches from the nose
Of a leaping border collie who hangs a foot
      above the ground. The boy’s arm is stuck
At a characteristic angle, cantilevered. In a lawn chair
      his mother holds the brush that will never reach her toenail,
One drop of pink levitating just above her skin.
      So many cars immobilized. A lawn mower founders,
Fountaining green. And in a dark bedroom, a woman
      hesitates forever above the transfixed body
Of a lover, seized up for the incoming stroke.
      Time is a mercy of completion, our nerves
Going up in meaningless smoke, our animal hearts released.