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Selma Love Song

Like Son’s sweet resonator,

I am the honey bee moan

in your tender ear:

silver howl, cross-

road breath. This body

tuned & flawed,

the fretboard

a plank of mercy.

In the burn

of the baddest juke,

no soul fears dance,

damns touch. Our hands,

dear God, sign

the wanting. They tremble,

slide  release

the loudest chords.

from dying in the scarecrow’s armsFind it in the library

Copyright © Persea Books 2018
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Persea Books.

Published in Mitchel L.H. Douglas Poems

This program is supported in part by a grant from the Idaho Humanities Council, a State-based program of the National Endowment for the Humanities.

Any views, findings, conclusions, or recommendations expressed in this (publication, website, exhibit, etc.) do not necessarily represent those of the Idaho Humanities Council or the National Endowment for the Humanities.