Unstole It
Jim Davies
On an old Baroque pillow
drops an odd, cold blood of a dead god.
Somebody touched broke in the hold, with the original key, and
stole it.
Breathing on it
makes falling raindrop things.
Smelling it
allows you to tell songs an octave higher, or Kate Bush in the original key.
Touching it
kills your soul but leaves your body much unchanged.
Somebody broke in, clutched the original key, rehold and
unstole it.
Drop wanted back,
and we’d better understand a bizarre oak willow than its tickery.
