Country Music
an online journal of poetry
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Amber Nelson



Cellar Dark


No tingle where his stinger digs,
just a rivet in the flesh.

O the tin, the triumph, his vinyl in
my clutch, our jive.

All of this in a locked corridor
enjambed against the cornice &

I cannot architect the music

of so much regret. The calcium

breaks against the steeling.
All frames are his skeleton & all slots broadcast

my buzz. Blast this caged apology.
Blast this bloody public fuck.

What is unending. What is unending.
What is unending will jangle like arms

in cellar dark. The hard lecture
arresting each absented fury.