Song of a Living Room

Brigitte Byrd

A sample poem from the book

(a brittle day passed by)

Despite his attempt at rewriting the opening scene her Georgian film took a tragic welcome. She had almost reached the vanishing point when he broke. And then there was a tremor in his chest and he pointed at nothing to say there is something broken and she loved him. There. Though thoroughly convincing it was his dramatic dialogue which aroused the commotion in her lyricism. She stumbled on his architectural syntax and held on to her ending. He indulged in peripheral sympathy. His questions made it into the narrative. On the occasion a sensual allure sparked their sexual uproar. There was a furtive glance at his eyes a shifting of hands on her thighs a conceptual prologue to. In other words her show split into a new opening and there was a straightforward wait in the adaptation of their domesticity. There is of course the bag. . . . There will always be the bag. After leaving this performance red as his guitar they went on threading through the plot like under-written players.